


ain't even heard the question, but i know i'll say yes

by pepperfield



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Light Pining, M/M, Meddling, Minor Original Character(s), Obliviousness to One's Own Feelings, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, Provocation Battle, Requited Love, Slow Build, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 74,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperfield/pseuds/pepperfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>to super fly ace guy bokuto-sama: (4:40) <b>fuck FUCK bokuto he kissed me what the fuck do i do</b></p>
  <p>from super fly ace guy bokuto-sama (4:42) <i>oh shit provocation master kuroo-kun r u losing at ur own game???</i><br/></p>
</blockquote><br/>Kuroo doesn't mean for things to go so far when he asks Sawamura out – it was only supposed to be another provocation, another chance to revel in that momentary flash of emotion in Sawamura's eyes, the split second when his defenses weaken enough for Kuroo to really see all of him. But when they go from being 300 kilometers apart to co-existing on the same campus, Kuroo finds himself losing control over their pas de deux.<p>He's not sure he's even playing a game anymore.</p><p>[Or: Kuroo wants to win relationship chicken, Daichi has eternal patience, and everyone else already knows how this dating sim is going to end.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Accidentally fell face first into kurodai while catching up with Haikyuu!! so here we are now: a self-indulgent college era fic! This story begins in canon and will contain spoilers up through at least chapter 196. Thank you for reading!

Kuroo is a nice guy.  
  
People always make the worst faces when he tells them that, like he punched a bird or stole the last slice of cake, and it's downright offensive. Kuroo is a supportive friend and an excellent teacher and a great captain, and people would know this if they looked deeper.  
  
"It's because of your hair," Kenma says, not looking up from his game as they sit outside waiting for the evening heat to lessen after that night's post-training dinner.  
  
"What? Why? Isn't it artfully tousled? Don't I look cool and mysterious? Maybe a little scheming, okay, but it's no worse than Yamamoto's."  
  
Kenma stops playing long enough to scrutinize Kuroo's face, eyes large and unblinking, before turning back to his game. "You look like a yakuza trying to hide his conjunctivitis."  
  
"Ouch. You know I can't help my bedhead, Kenma."  
  
"It could also be your laugh. Or your smile. I think it scares people," Kenma mumbles. On his screen, he defeats another enemy.  
  
"I think my smile is bright and refreshing."  
  
"Or maybe it's just because you always provoke people, Kuro."  
  
"That...could be true. But it's too late to change my winning personality at this point. I'll just have to double down on proving how nice I am."  
  
This time, after the victory jingle chimes, Kenma deigns to look up and offer Kuroo a faint smile. "Good luck."  
  
  
In any case, Kuroo's a nice guy, so during the training camp he (forcibly) takes Glasses-kun under his wing and trains him up nice so Karasuno has some passable blocking power. He's grown fond of this team, with their to-the-death tenacity and survivalist play style. Karasuno's got a whole bunch of weirdos, but he likes how scrappy they are, especially the shorty who brings Kenma out of his shell and drives Lev to work harder. They make for good rivals, even though as it stands now, Nekoma'll beat them 9 times out of 10.  
  
That's why near the end of their last meet he asks for Sawamura's number before their teams part ways, to better keep Karasuno connected with the Fukurodani training group. They'll need all the connections they can use. Sawamura gives him his number readily, but when he asks for Kuroo's in return, Kuroo swipes his phone and enters himself in as "my favorite captain ♥".  
  
Sawamura raises an eyebrow when he gets his phone back, asking dryly, "Why wouldn't I be my own favorite captain?"  
  
"Never took you for the egotistical type, Sawamura," Kuroo responds, grinning. "Text me your best strategies, okay?"  
  
"Ha, as if. Be a little more devious. I expected better from a cat."   
  
They walk down the hall together toward the cafeteria, where someone's already screaming about bread. Kuroo can see Kai trying to rein some first years in, herding them back toward their table. Akaashi's doing the same thing, but only for Bokuto. "Ohoho, be careful what you wish for. Not even you can outplay me in a battle of wits," Kuroo warns him as they enter the room and line up to get rice.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sawamura asks, turning back to look at Kuroo straight on, dark eyes wide and guileless. "I'm no strategist. It's Suga you need to watch out for. Maybe Tsukishima; you've been training with him, you should know he's pretty sharp. Thanks for that, by the way. I don't know if he'll admit it, but I think you've really helped." And just like that he's managed to change the subject, all while maintaining his straightforward captainly demeanor. Kuroo can't help but be impressed.  
  
But he doesn't push the point. He follows Sawamura over to a table where Azumane and Konoha are already sitting. "It's just an investment on my part. How are we going to take the trash heap crown at nationals if your blockers can't even stop Ushiwaka in the preliminaries?"  
  
Sawamura regards him for a moment before raising his arm to shield himself from the pickle that flies off of Tanaka's chopsticks. "Fair enough. Thanks anyway," he says with a smile, then whips around to scold his teammates for throwing food. Kuroo watches him yelling across the room for a minute longer than he should, trying to understand what makes him tick.  
  
From a quick glance, Sawamura looks down-to-earth. Sturdy. The kind of captain who doesn't shine, but holds his upstart team together with steady confidence. The team's backbone; a little boring, but never to be underestimated. His handshake at their first meeting seemed to confirm this: strong and warm, he clasped Kuroo's hand in his with a solid grip.  
  
But his smile.  
  
It almost out-sparkled Kuroo's with the way Sawamura was glowing at him, glittering and at least 85% fake, and Kuroo realized in that moment that under the trim haircut and somewhat forgettable face is someone to be reckoned with. There's a craftiness beneath that well-meaning country boy exterior, and Kuroo's not going to make the mistake of forgetting that.  
  
That cunning doesn't surface often outside of matches, where Sawamura knows exactly what to say to keep his team on track. He makes it look effortless, with his compliments and rallying cries, and the occasional slap on the back to their ace. Karasuno hasn't quite hit its stride yet - hasn't learned how to function as one cohesive unit like Nekoma has, but if anyone could take them there, it would be Sawamura.  
  
Off the court, he's generally about as straight-laced as he looks, but it isn't until a few days into their training that Kuroo starts to understand him. He's definitely not as wild as Bokuto, nor does he usually get caught up in their silliness, but he's not as deadpan as Akaashi either. He's got a pretty dry sense of humor, and he's not above teasing Azumane or his first years, but he just as easily gets riled up when Kuroo heckles him about his simple country life. He's easy to talk to, whether about volleyball, or the stress of being in college prep classes, or even the stupid shit they've gotten in trouble for while recruiting new members during the club fair. Kuroo could see them becoming friends if they ever saw each other for more than a few weekends out of the year, and maybe that has more relevance to why he asks for Sawamura's number than he'll admit, but no one needs to know.  
  
"Hey, you like saury, right? Better get another piece before they raid us," Sawamura says to Kuroo's left, shaking him out of his thoughts. He plunks a piece of fish down into Kuroo's bowl as the wild coalition of wing spikers descend on their table, trying to steal their food. Kuroo blinks down at his fish, wondering why he feels oddly touched by the gesture. He doesn't want to let on how he's suddenly been caught off guard, though, so he changes the topic of conversation.  
  
"Oh, thanks. Hey, me and Bokuto'll probably be borrowing Glass- uh, Tsukki again tonight if you guys don't need him. His read blocking is getting better, but going head-to-head against Bokuto will help get him prepped for the prelims."  
  
"No complaints here. But don't cry when your disciple defeats you at Spring High, okay?" Sawamura grins at him, a tiny bit sharp at the edges, and Kuroo can't help but respond in kind, smirking back in full.  
  
"Why don't you work on that firepower of yours first before you come at us? Half of those baby crows of yours are barely out of their shells yet."  
  
Sawamura looks like he's about to defend them, but instead sighs, shaking his head fondly. Kuroo follows his gaze to where his underclassmen seem to be engaged in an eating contest. "They'll be ready," he says softly, but with absolute confidence, and even as the little freckly one falls off his chair, Kuroo finds he believes him.  
  
There's something about Sawamura Daichi, something that no one else seems to see unless they're really looking, that makes Kuroo take notice.  
  
\--  
  
Training camp ends with a promise to meet again for their destined battle of the trash heap. Karasuno returns to Miyagi, Nekoma continues practicing, and Kuroo tries his best to concentrate in class when the only thing on his mind is volleyball.  
  
He doesn't wind up texting Sawamura until a few weeks into August, after Kenma receives Shorty's report that Karasuno's won their first two matches and are advancing to the prefecture playoffs. Incidentally, they hear from Nekomata-sensei that same afternoon that Karasuno will visit Kanto twice more for training through October. Kuroo notices that even Kenma stops looking at the ground when he hears the news, perking up imperceptibly to anyone who hasn't known him for years.  
  
He elbows Kenma as they head back home after school, asking with the most knowing expression he can muster, "Happy to see your friend again?"  
  
Kenma completely ignores his beautiful face in favor of completing a quest, but he does answer. "I bet Shouyou's been training a lot. I wonder how he'll do against us this time."  
  
Coming from Kenma it's almost akin to jumping in elation, even though he's been careful not to express any particular excitement.  
  
"Knowing him, he's been working his ass off. I knew you'd be happy," Kuroo says smugly.  
  
"Don't act like you're not happy too, Kuro," Kenma tells him, unimpressed. "I know you and Nekomata-sensei really want to face off against them. Even your eyes- um...eye looks brighter."  
  
Kuroo doesn't deny it. He's developed a fondness for a few of their players since the previous camp; none so much as for Bokuto, who he's known for 3 years now, but he can't say he isn't looking forward to mentoring Tsukki again or seeing that oddball quick from Kenma's friend and his genius setter. Or seeing Sawamura at the captains' meetings.  
  
He remembers halfway through studying for his history test that he has Sawamura's number, so he grabs his phone and shoots him a text instead of finishing his reading on the Battle of Sekigahara.  
  
to cap'n crow:(7:13) **looking forward to more flying falls? i've never met someone who loved penalties so much**  
  
Immediately afterwards, he remembers it's the first time he's ever contacted Sawamura and wonders if he should've introduced himself. He never actually entered his name into Sawamura's phone. What if he doesn't remember Kuroo? That'd be awkward. He debates sending a follow-up text reminding Sawamura of who he is when a return text arrives.  
  
from cap'n crow: (7:15) _You should join in next time, Kuroo-san. Your hair would really help with the dust on the gym floor._  
  
Kuroo's almost surprised at first that Sawamura jumps right into joking around with him, but he's mostly relieved that he's left an impression on the other captain. His pen falls to the table, forgotten, as he concentrates on sending a message back.  
  
(7:16) **just kuroo is fine. and i think i'll pass. i like the view from up here - i try not to sink to your level if i don't have to**  
  
(7:17) _Are you sure? It's good exercise._  
(7:17) _It would probably do wonders for your personality too._  
  
(7:18) **ooh that hurts sawamura-kun  
** (7:19) **why can't you appreciate how charming i am (=^ ; ω ; ^=)**  
  
(7:20) _Probably because I've met you?_  
  
Kuroo grins at that one. He's tempted to spam Sawamura with more sad cat faces, but another text follows.  
  
(7:21) _Seriously though, we really appreciate the chance to train with you guys again._  
(7:21) _I know I'm speaking for the whole team when I say we're indebted to you and the rest of the group. Thank you very much._  
  
(7:23) **hey no prob man but you don't have to be so serious  
** (7:24) **it's just me your buddy kuroo**  
(7:24) **cool handsome CHARMING kuroo** **ヽ(=｀ω´ =)ノ**  
  
(7:26) _Oh, my bad. I didn't realize charming was a codeword for obnoxious._  
(7:27) ┐( ˘ ､ ˘ )┌  
(7:28) _I was wrong._ _You ARE my most charming friend after all._  
  
Kuroo's pretty sure he looks like an idiot right now, sitting at his desk smiling stupidly at his phone. At first it was just the fact that Sawamura really doesn't seem like the emoji type, but then he notices the last text. Friend. Huh. Even if Sawamura doesn't really mean it, Kuroo will take it.  
  
His gaze flicks over to the calendar on his wall. They'll be meeting again on Saturday, four days from now. He looks back at the words on his screen, thinks about the wry smile Sawamura would be wearing if they were together in person, and makes the sudden decision that's going to throw his life into disarray in approximately one year (not that he knows it yet).  
  
Even if Sawamura doesn't mean it yet, Kuroo's going to make it happen. He's gonna befriend that boy so hard, he'll never know what hit him.  
  
But first, he needs to finish reading about Tokugawa Ieyasu.  
  
\--  
  
"Leeeeev, get back here!!" Kuroo yells down the hallway, but his middle blocker has already scampered away. "I don't know how you do it," he sighs at Akaashi, who's folding up the jersey that Bokuto chucked to the ground when he ran off to the bathroom. Tsukishima stepped out a minute ago when summoned by Karasuno's little blonde manager, so practice has been temporarily halted. Even Hinata's resting, leaning against the wall and watching Kenma feed his virtual cats.  
  
"The whole team pitches in, which helps," Akaashi tells him. "And Bokuto-san is reliable in his own way."  
  
Boy, does Kuroo know it. Bokuto's spikes are the current bane of Lev's existence, and thus, the bane of Kuroo's as well. "I guess better to have a reliable ace with 500 weaknesses than a baby 'ace' who's scared of Yaku."  
  
"Bokuto-san only has 68 weaknesses," Akaashi responds as Bokuto storms back in, Sawamura in tow. He points to the two captains. "But they can happen at any time. For example, weakness #17: picking up strays and getting distracted."  
  
"Hey hey hey, look who I found on my way back! Why don't you ever come to our special awesome captain training, huh?" Bokuto demands of Sawamura, crowding him against the net and waving his arms around.  
  
"Isn't this blocking practice?" Sawamura asks, amused. "I had some other things to work on, and I wouldn't want to get in your way."  
  
"There's plenty of room now that Lev's left!" Bokuto exclaims. "You can join me and Akaashi! Right, Akaashi? We should keep him; he's pretty strong." He turns to Akaashi, raising up Sawamura's arm to show off his muscles in an attempt to sway his setter.  
  
Akaashi ignores him to stare at Kuroo instead while gesturing over at the duo. "Like I said."  
  
Kuroo ducks under the net to join them, squeezing in between the two so that Bokuto's forced to let go of Sawamura's bicep. "Are you trying to claim Sawamura? That's not fair, you already have the shrimp. This one's mine," he declares, looping his arm over Sawamura's shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he can see Sawamura turn to examine Kuroo's hand, now dangling from his shoulder, but he makes no move to shrug him off.  
  
"Kuroo, you have already have Tsukki! And Hinata's like, only half a Tsukki, so I should get Sawamura too, to balance it out."   
  
"HEY!" Hinata screeches. Kenma's holding him back by his jersey so he doesn't fling himself into battle against Bokuto. "I'm not that short!! Tsukishima's only like 10cm taller than me!"  
  
"Try 25cm," Sawamura laughs. "But don't worry, Hinata. Karasuno needs you both. Nothing wrong with being on the short side."  
  
The reassurance takes instant effect. Hinata nods eagerly, practically sparkling at his captain's words. "Yessir, captain! I'll train even harder! C'mon, Kenma, toss for me again! I'm not gonna lose to Tsukishima!" He bounds over to the other side of the gym, Kenma trailing reluctantly after him. It makes Kuroo smile. That shorty's really something else.  
  
"Hinata and Kozume really hit it off, haven't they? You look like a proud parent," Sawamura teases, elbowing Kuroo in the side.   
  
"Like you have any room to talk," Kuroo says. "Weren't you the one who started feeding the underclassmen first at the barbecue? Trying to sharpen your dad skills already?"  
  
Sawamura scoffs, stretching up taller to meet Kuroo's eyes. "Weren't you literally helping Haiba brush his teeth this morning? There is no way you don't out-dad me."  
  
"I heard you scolding Kageyama for not stacking his futon neatly enough, right after you reminded Hinata to wear a clean shirt for the day," Kuroo retorts, using his height to his advantage to loom over Sawamura and leer at him.  
  
"Heeey, stop bonding!!" Bokuto yells, trying to detach Kuroo's arm from Sawamura, so Kuroo hangs on even tighter, until he's basically encapsulated Sawamura in a one armed hug. Bokuto's response is to try and burrow between them, but when that's unsuccessful, he resorts to trying to carry Sawamura away by bending over and lifting him by the waist. Sawamura squawks, trapped in Kuroo's hold while Bokuto slowly hoists him into the air.  
  
"Weakness #61," Akaashi mutters. "Feeling left out and causing a commotion. Bokuto-san, Sawamura-san can be friends with both of you. Please don't drop him, or Suga-san will have your head and I'll be powerless to stop him."  
  
"It's true," Sawamura agrees. "We're all friends here, so please put me back down," he requests, hammering at both their arms to be released. Kuroo almost holds on a tad longer, but Sawamura turns toward him and suddenly he realizes their faces are just mere centimeters away. He's so close he can see one white hair among the black, and the dark crescents under his eyes.  
  
He unhooks his arm and steps back so that Bokuto can lower Sawamura back to the ground. "You sure you're only 17, Sawamura? You're already going gray," he says, poking at the silvery strand. Sawamura laughs ruefully, rubbing at the premature creases at the corner of his eye.  
  
"I think I age another year every time we have a close call. The playoffs might actually kill me."  
  
"Don't die yet," Bokuto warns. "Not before we get a chance to thrash you in a real match."  
  
"I'll try not to," Sawamura says just as Tsukishima re-enters the gym, their tiny manager walking by his side. She bows shakily, requesting that they come to dinner, jumping in surprise when they all rush over. Bokuto and Hinata end up in an impromptu race, leaving the rest of them in the dust. Kuroo flashes the girl his cheshire smile when he files past, enjoying the way a shock of apprehension runs through her spine, jolting her straight. Sawamura smacks him in the arm with the back of his hand when he notices.  
  
"Hey, leave Yachi alone, you scoundrel," he warns, squinting at Kuroo in suspicion. "Don't get any weird ideas. Shimizu will destroy you."  
  
"Ah, Sawamura, I'm just trying to help. How's she going to manage all your problem children if she can't even look me in the eye?"  
  
"I told you, they're not my kids," Sawamura grumbles.  
  
"Haha, sure, sure, whatever you say." An eyeroll is all he gets in response, but it's good-natured, and Kuroo is sort of astonished at how comfortable it feels to be walking side by side with him, sniping at each other. This friendship plan is well on track.  
  
  
That evening, after most everyone has fallen asleep, Kuroo peels his pillows off his face and slips out of Nekoma's room to grab a cup of water. Even with his slow shuffle, he almost trips over a chair when he enters the cafeteria and sees someone sitting by the window, half-lit by moonlight. He catches himself fast enough that he doesn't fall, but the chair still clatters, drawing the attention of the other person in the room. It's Sawamura, dressed in his school t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The evening breeze enters though the window he's opened, causing his hair to shift in the dark, the silver-yellow sluice of light catching in his eyes so that they look golden, almost as bright as Kenma's. He startles, until he recognizes Kuroo's thin frame emerging from the shadows, and then he relaxes, sitting back into his chair and nodding at Kuroo in acknowledgement.  
  
Kuroo crosses through the kitchen door and fixes himself a cup of water, then strides over to join Sawamura when he notices the other boy tracking his movements. He slides over the table to take the chair next to him and props his feet up on the table as he chugs his water. After licking the stray droplets off the rim of his plastic cup, he asks, "Couldn't sleep? You look like you could use it."  
  
Sawamura rests his chin on his folded arms, looking up at Kuroo through half-lidded eyes. "Had a lot to think about."  
  
"You worried? About the playoffs?"  
  
"Who wouldn't be? But it's not just a case of nerves. I feel like...like I'm full of electricity. Like there's so much building inside of me, just waiting to happen. And I'm not afraid we're going to lose - I think it's actually the opposite. I think we're really gonna do it, and it's making me restless to have to wait until then, but it's not like I'm in a hurry to rush through training either? So in the end, I can't sleep," he laughs. "Sorry, I'm just rambling." He blinks slowly at Kuroo, clearly sleepy but still too conscious.  
  
Kuroo lowers his legs from the table and scoots his chair in closer, resting his cheek against his palm to look down at Sawamura more comfortably. "No, I get it, though I didn't take you for the fidgety type. You always seem so steady."  
  
"It only happens when it comes to volleyball. When I have tests I just stress out like a normal person."  
  
"Ha, you too? I almost sprained my finger trying to finish my history test on time. I made Kai help me bandage my hand for practice that day."  
  
"Really?" Sawamura sounds surprised, sitting up so he's more level with Kuroo's face. "You seem like the kind who's naturally smart. The one guy who doesn't have to study and just coasts through exams."  
  
Kuroo smirks, then shakes his head, making a show of expressing his disappointment. "There you go, making assumptions based off the way I look. Shame on you."  
  
"If I were doing that, I'd have assumed you were a delinquent, not an insufferable genius," Sawamura snarks back. "It's actually more because of the way you play, I think. I know you must be thinking through a lot of different factors when you're on the court, obviously, right? But watching Nekoma, you all flow together so smoothly that it looks effortless. It makes it seem like everything's a piece of cake for you."  
  
"Is that a compliment? It sounds like a compliment."  
  
"Sure, you can consider it a compliment," Sawamura allows. "Hey, but just 'cause I praised you once doesn't mean I don't still think you're a scoundrel."  
  
"How can you say something so hurtful? You don't even know me," Kuroo sniffs. With one hand he dabs at his eyes to dry his false tears.  
  
"You put me in a chokehold a few hours ago!"  
  
"That was an expression of friendship. Friends hug each other, and that's what we are. Friends. Unless you keep calling me names. Then I'd have to break up with you."  
  
In response, Sawamura kicks at Kuroo's shins under the table, utterly unmoved by Kuroo's anguish. "Then change my mind, Kuroo Tetsurou. Prove you're not a raging degenerate. Maybe it'll help put me to sleep."  
  
"Are you saying I'm boring, Sawamura? It's just one insult after another with you, isn't it? I'm telling on you to Sugawara." He starts standing, but Sawamura grabs him by the wrist, tugging him back into his chair. His skin is warm against Kuroo's, but it causes a chill to run up Kuroo's arm anyway, leaving goosebumps in its wake.  
  
"No, no need for that, sit down, we're friends, right? Nothing here to report to Suga. He'll be pissed if he finds out I'm not sleeping." It's the closest thing to wheedling Kuroo's ever seen him do, and with his eyelids half shut and his hand still clutching Kuroo's wrist, with his thumb pressed against the base of Kuroo's palm, some of the respectable aura he always carries is lost, and he looks just like any other disheveled teenager Kuroo's ever met. Not that there's anything wrong with Sawamura's stalwart captain-ness, but even he can't wear the captain's mantle all the time. When Kuroo lowers himself back into his chair, Sawamura relinquishes his hold, letting Kuroo's hand go, but he can still feel the residual heat like a brand on his wristbone.  
  
"Ground you for staying up past your bedtime?" A sluggish nod. "Always figured Sugawara was the man behind the man. He's got your number, hasn't he?"  
  
Sawamura's smile is half-resigned and half-admiring, but 100% fond underneath it all. "After three years, he knows all of mine and Asahi's tells. I can never get away with lying to him. Don't even get me started on the blackmail material he has on us."  
  
His one visible eye widened, Kuroo leans into Sawamura's space, whispering, "You expect me to be believe he has something on _you_? Mr. Kind and Dependable? Actually, you know what, I do believe it. Someone like you is probably repressing a lot of dark secrets. So what is it? What's the worst thing he's got on you?"  
  
"It's bad enough that Suga knows; why would I tell you?" Sawamura whispers back, eyebrows furrowed.  
  
As if Kuroo is going to let him escape now, before he can see the goods. "Well, if you're not man enough to tell me, that's fine too. Should have figured that the leader of a former, _fallen_ championship team wouldn't have the guts to put his money where his mouth is, but you know what, maybe I was naive enough to believe in you."  
  
Sawamura's fingers twitch; he knows that Kuroo's trying to rile him up, and it looks like it might somehow work. "You really can't help provoking people, can you?" he asks through a clenched jaw, his grin more of a baring of teeth than a smile.  
  
"It might be an actual problem," Kuroo admits. "So, c'mon, a secret for a secret, how about that?"  
  
"You're offering me a trade?" At Kuroo's nod, he puts his hand to his lips, tapping out a rhythm as he thinks it over. It's followed by a sigh, and Sawamura scrubbing a hand through his hair, messing the flat cut up into small spikes, as he says, "Okay, but this stays between you and me, got it? And Suga I guess. And in this case, my whole school..."  
  
"I promise. Nothing leaves this room. Pinky swear, even." He extends his finger to Sawamura, who hooks his pinky around it. "So is it really embarrassing?" he asks, still whispering.  
  
Sawamura looks down at the table for a few seconds, he when he looks back up, there's a slight flush tinting his cheeks. "Back when we were still first years, um, and Shimizu wasn't our manager yet, one of the things we were tasked with doing was finding a manager for the team. I knew Michimiya - she's the captain of Karasuno's girls' team - I knew she had a friend, Satou, who stopped playing after middle school but hadn't joined a club yet, so I thought she might be a good fit. So after school one day I ask Michimiya where I can find Satou, and she tells me she's sitting over on a bench by the garden.  
  
"I find her there, and I have this whole speech prepared but then she stands up and bows, and says she can't return my feelings. Someone wrote her a love letter and told her to meet him there, but I found her first, so now she's returning this guy's letter to me, and the whole gardening club's watching me get turned down by this girl I don't even know. And then she takes off before I can explain that I didn't write the letter, and everyone in the gardening club is looking at me like they think I'm gonna cry - one of the guys even walks over to pat me on the back, like to tell me everything's going to be okay?"  
  
Kuroo winces. "Killed your reputation, didn't it? Shit, a public rejection is brutal."  
  
"It gets worse," Sawamura groans, pressing his palms to his forehead. "Now I'm standing there holding the letter when the writer, the guy who confessed to Satou, finally shows up. I try to return the letter to him and explain what happened, but then he rips it in half and runs away too. So now I look like I've been rejected by two people over the span of twenty minutes. I'm too shocked to go after him, so finally one of the garden club girls brings me a flower and gives me a hug. The next day everyone in my class was calling me Strikeout Sawamura."  
  
"Damn. Bats for both teams; can't win for either one?"  
  
"Basically. It took me five months to shake the nickname," Sawamura says, chuckling dryly. He thumps his head back onto the table, then props himself up on his arms when Kuroo climbs up to sit on the tabletop. "Your turn."  
  
Kuroo leans back until he winds up lying flat on the table, his feet resting on his chair. "A secret. Hm. Okay, no one but Kenma knows this, but, uh, around the time I was 7 I almost quit volleyball."  
  
That makes Sawamura sit up. "Really? What for?"  
  
This story's so dumb that Kuroo's already preemptively chagrined about telling it. "I decided I wanted to be a mime instead."  
  
" _What_? Why?"  
  
"There weren't any matches on so I was watching this western movie, and I thought the mime was like, really making invisible objects. I thought it was a special power or something, and if I spent my time sharpening my mime telekinesis skills instead of playing volleyball, I could be like a superhero. I did it for a few days; I even made Kenma help, but my parents finally told me the truth after they got sick of me knocking stuff over whenever I mimed leaning on walls." His face is burning even from the memory of that phase. He used to be such a weird kid. It's a wonder Kenma tolerated him.  
  
"That...is..." Sawamura trails off, biting his lip. He claps Kuroo on the knee in a show of support, but he's plainly suppressing his amusement. "That's a hobby you could still pursue. In your free time."  
  
"I really don't think so," Kuroo says. "And I better not hear a peep from you about it. We've both got dirt on each other now. A secret for a secret; an eye for an eye."  
  
"Mutually assured destruction. That's fair," Sawamura says, but his voice seems unnaturally gruff.  
  
There's an odd set to his mouth, with his lips pressed too flat and his jaw locked, almost like he's trying not to laugh. Almost like he's hiding something...wait a moment. Kuroo shoots back up, hair on end, all senses alert. "Wait, shit, did you play me? That story about the confession. Was that a lie?"  
  
Sawamura diverts his gaze, turning toward the window instead. "It might be," he says, his line of sight never wavering away from the window. Son of a gun.  
  
Kuroo slugs him in the shoulder without thinking. "You  _asshole_ , here I was feeling sorry for you, baring my soul, and you lead with a lie? I  _knew_  you were a crafty one! And all that bullshit about not being able to lie, too. Strikeout Sawamura my fuckin' foot."  
  
Sawamura laughs as he rubs the spot Kuroo punched him. It's a quiet sound, barely more than a murmur, but it seems to leave the air between them warmer. "Actually, I said I couldn't lie to Suga, and that's true. Anyway, I can't hold a poker face for very long; you found out in the end, didn't you?" he protests as Kuroo clambers back into his chair and scoots away from him.   
  
"Played me for a fool, you magnificent bastard," Kuroo hisses, absolutely disgusted by how impressed he is.   
  
"I'll make it up to you," Sawamura responds, wearing that secret sharp smile. Kuroo realizes belatedly that it reminds him of a cat. Go figure. What he doesn't know is why the sight of it causes a slight hitch in his chest. "A real secret, this time."  
  
"I dunno. You've burned me once already."  
  
"I promise, it'll be real this time. Swear on my honor." He presses his hand to his heart, expression completely sober again.  
  
"Well, maybe I don't want-" Kuroo starts, but a sound from outside the cafeteria causes him to stop short. It's the steady tap of footsteps. "You hear that? Might be a teacher." The sound approaches, still quiet, but deafening to both of them.  
  
"Crap, Coach Ukai's going to be pissed if he finds us here," Sawamura hisses back. They sit stock still, staring at one another and trying not to breathe or betray any sign of life. A draft outside the window floats in, ruffling Kuroo's hair and causing a chill to run through his skin; Sawamura, with his sleeves rolled up, suppresses a shiver too, both of them sitting frozen in apprehension, gazes locked. After a minute the footsteps pass by them, continuing down the hallway.  
  
There's enough moonlight in the room for Kuroo to make out the hands of the clock on the wall: it's probably been at least half an hour since he first came to get a drink. "We should go before someone catches us. Do you think you can sleep now?"  
  
Sawamura glances at the clock as well, then nods. "I'll be fine. Thanks for keeping me company tonight. You're not half bad, Kuroo." They both stand and make their way toward the exit.  
  
"Not as much of a scoundrel as you thought, right? I'm a pretty nice guy."  
  
Sawamura snorts, closing the cafeteria door behind them. "I wouldn't go that far."  
  
"Give it time. I'll grow on you."  
  
"If you say so," he says as they make their way down the empty hall, fast approaching Karasuno's room. "Hey," pausing to touch Kuroo's elbow, drawing him to a stop, "I owe you a secret. Remind me the next time we meet, okay?"  
  
Sawamura must run hot, because even that ghost of a touch trails away from Kuroo's skin like steam, along with the rough brush of his callouses. "Next time, then," he agrees. With careful hands, Sawamura slides his classroom door open, and steps gingerly over his libero to let himself into to the room. Kuroo waves him off and closes the door for him, before tiptoeing back toward his own sleeping quarters, still rubbing at the spot on his elbow that the other boy had touched, just moments ago. He finds himself suddenly thirsty again, throat feeling unexpectedly dry, but it's too late now to fetch another cup of water. He'll have to wait until the morning, but for some reason he gets the feeling he won't be falling asleep any time soon.  
  
\--  
  
Three weeks later, Nekoma's won their spot in the Tokyo playoffs, and Karasuno's eked out Aobajousai to take on Shiratorizawa in the Miyagi finals. Kenma informs the team as they're changing back into uniform, but Kuroo doesn't get the chance to send his congratulations personally since he has to hurry home to help make dinner that day. After that, he forgets all about it as he scrambles to finish the math homework he'd been putting off, until his phone buzzes next to him on his bed where he's lying on his stomach.   
  
from stop calling me dad: (8:51) _Not dead yet, but down one tooth._  
(8:52) _Asahi and Suga say it looks fine but_  
(8:52) _I'm kind of concerned? If I lose one each time we play a match  
_ (8:53) _I'll need dentures by the end of nationals_  
(8:53) _Better than dying, though._  
(8:54) _Oh, we won by the way! Taking on Shiratorizawa tomorrow._  
(8:55) _Uh, this is Sawamura, if you didn't know. Sorry._  
(8:56) _Fuck sorry you're probably busy feel free to ignore these texts_  
(8:56) _Have a good night._  
  
(8:57) **sawamura bro calm down this is way more entertaining than calculus**  
(8:57) **i mean not the part about you losing a tooth that part sucks**  
(8:58) **probably shouldn't keep doing that**  
(8:59) **wouldn't want to ruin your lovely face**  
  
He presses send and then second guesses himself. Is it too much? He doesn't want to scare Sawamura off, since they've still only known each other for a few months; it's not like he's Bokuto, who's used to Kuroo's sense of humor.  
  
(9:00) _Too late._  
(9:00) _Guess I can't list "having teeth" as my most attractive feature anymore._  
  
...but if Sawamura's willing to play ball, then Kuroo's not holding back. Might as well let the guy realize what he's getting into, being friends with Kuroo.  
  
(9:01) **not all hope is lost**  
(9:02) **you've still got killer thighs**  
(9:03) **they say you could suffocate a man with those legs of yours**  
(9:03) **sawamura "skullcrusher" daichi**  
  
(9:04) _That's the worst nickname anyone's ever given me._  
(9:05) _Kuroo, don't you dare change my name in your phone, I swear to God_  
  
to sawamura "skullcrusher" daichi: (9:05) **too late**  ♥  
  
(9:06) _I'm deleting you from my contacts._  
(9:07) _Nice knowing you._  
(9:07) _Bye._  
  
(9:08) **aw baby don't be like that**  
  
(9:09) _Sorry, who is this?_  
  
(9:10) **saaawaamuraaaa**  
(9:11) **stop ignoring me** **ヾ( ￣O￣)ツ**  
(9:12) **i miss you come back**  
(9:13) **how was the match**  
(9:14) **how are the kids**  
(9:15) **we never talk anymore what happened to us**  
(9:16) **how did we drift apart like this**  
  
(9:16) _Kuroo, it's been literally five minutes._  
(9:17) _Calm down._  
  
(9:17) **i can't stay calm**  
(9:18) **don't leave meeee**  
  
(9:19) _I didn't leave, I was just changing into my pajamas._  
(9:20) _I need to sleep soon._  
  
(9:20) **oh shit don't let me keep you up**  
(9:20) **you gotta get that beauty sleep for your big day**  
   
(9:21) _It's okay, I'm the one who texted you._  
(9:22) _Just wanted to talk to someone who would understand._  
  
(9:23) **sure man hit me up what's goin on**  
  
(9:23) _I still feel all electric inside._  
(9:24) _I just keep thinking about the last three years._  
(9:24) _How long it took to climb back up_  
(9:25) _How much farther we still have to go_  
(9:25) _I keep thinking that we have to show them what Karasuno can really do_  
  
Kuroo rolls over from his stomach onto his back, holding his phone above his face to read the text again. So even Sawamura's conviction can falter. He remembers the feeling himself, back when his upperclassmen treated Kenma like an errand boy even though they couldn't even take the team to the playoffs. He remembers how people used to reminisce over Nekoma's former glory and how he learned to hold his tongue and stand by silently, biding his time until this team – _his_ team, with Kenma and Yaku and Kai, with his first and second years who put hours and hours of practice into making their defenses perfect, their teamwork flawless – was ready to show everyone again that they were champion material. No one understands that better than Sawamura.    
  
(9:26) **hey**  
(9:26) **you got this**  
(9:27) **you're here now**  
(9:27) **karasuno is here now**  
(9:28) **you really think you're gonna choke after you've come this far?**  
  
(9:29) _No way._  
  
(9:29) **exactly, no goddamn way**  
(9:30) **so are you gonna win, or are you gonna FUCKING WIN**  
  
(9:31) _We're going to win._  
  
(9:32) **sorry what was that I couldn't hear you**  
  
(9:33) _That's because we're texting, you dork._  
(9:34) _And I said WE'RE GOING TO FUCKING WIN_  
(9:35) _And then come crush you at nationals._  
  
(9:35) **ha okay we'll discuss that at a later date**  
(9:36) **good luck tomorrow**  
(9:36) **i expect to hear that you've whooped ushiwaka's ass**  
(9:37) **or i'm disowning tsukki**  
  
(9:37) _Count on it._  
  
After that, his phone falls silent, so he rolls over again to get back to work on his math. He feels lighter, having done his good deed for the day. Maybe it'll even help Karasuno win their representative match. It's sort of nice to know that there's someone out there who appreciates the position Kuroo's in, and who can take comfort in knowing that.  
  
The next morning, after he wakes up, he notices two new messages.  
  
(6:03) _Thanks, Kuroo._  
(6:04) _See you in three months._  
  
\--  
  
About twenty minutes after he gets home, Kuroo's phone chimes. He sits down on the floor of his balcony, enjoying the warm evenings of October while they last, and opens up his text.  
  
from sassmaster sawamura daichi: (6:51) _He did it!_  
  
Attached to the short message is a photo, slightly blurry. It's Sawamura, drenched in sweat and looking like his legs are about to give out, but he's grinning so hard his remaining teeth might shatter. His arm is slung over Tsukishima's shoulders; the kid is smiling at his captain, one hand bandaged up and the other one holding out the medal around his neck. In the background, he can see Sugawara trying to hug four people at once outside a restaurant.  
  
A second text arrives.  
  
(6:52) _We'll meet you in Tokyo!_  
  
Damn, they really did it. Karasuno's toppled a giant.  
  
"The crows are coming back to Tokyo," he murmurs. The picture isn't the best quality, but there's something in the way Sawamura's smiling at the camera and the pure happiness in his eyes that Kuroo has the bizarre urge to preserve. It must be one of Karasuno's other players taking the picture; Sawamura only looks at his teammates that way, with his mix of pride and immovable affection. Without dwelling over it further, he presses save and shoots back a response.  
  
(6:54) **congrats, captain of miyagi prefecture's spring high representative team**  
  
(6:55)  _That's a mouthful._  
(6:56) _But I like the way it sounds._  
(6:58) _Thanks, soon to be captain of one of tokyo prefecture's spring high representative teams_  
(6:59) ...t _hat took me a literal minute to type_  
  
(7:00) **haha you can just call me champ**  
(7:00) **cause nekoma's gonna sweep at spring high**  
  
(7:01) _hskfjdlsj run:$7)?9disrkdp ////27ndj+¥_  
  
(7:02) **what**  
  
Kuroo almost drops his phone when it starts ringing. Sawamura is calling him. "Hello?" he answers, bemused.  
  
"-hey, sit down Noya, or you'll fly out the window- oh, hello! Who is this?" the person on the other end asks. Their voice is several pitches too high to be Sawamura's, and considerably too mischievous. Looks like someone got his phone stolen.  
  
"This is Nekoma's Kuroo. Are you...is this Sugawara?" It's the best guess he has, considering the voice and manner.  
  
"It is! Good guess. Sooo, _you're_ Daichi's favorite captain? The mystery was killing me. There's even a little heart here!"  
  
A surprised laugh bubbles up from Kuroo's chest. "I can't believe he didn't change that. I think he likes me more than he wants to admit."  
  
Sugawara lowers his voice conspiratorially when he responds, "I think so too. You're the first person he texted, after his parents."  
  
"Really?" Kuroo's honestly a little shocked; he thinks that Sawamura might actually consider him a friend now, but he can't tell how close they are.  
  
"Yep. You know, I think it's pret-no, wait, Daichi, give me-" He cuts off abruptly, presumably since Sawamura's taken back control of his phone.  
  
Kuroo hears a muffled "get out, Suga, I'm sitting with Ennoshita," before Sawamura returns his attention to him. "Kuroo? Is that you? Sorry about this, they're all still too hyper from dinner and wanted take their energy out on me." He sounds slightly breathless, which causes a weird swoop in Kuroo's stomach. Maybe he's getting hungry.  
  
"It's fine, let them have their fun. It's not everyday that you defeat the reigning champions. You guys deserve it," he says.  
  
"That's true. The match was...I mean, I knew we could do it, but until we actually did, I didn't realize how winning it would feel, you know?" Sawamura lapses into a short silence before continuing, his voice a bit jittery. "I think some of that adrenaline might still be in my system. Takeda-sensei told us to try and sleep through the ride, but we're all too worked up. I'm probably gonna crash halfway through this conversation," he tells Kuroo.  
  
"Are you saying that I put you to sleep? Am I boring you _again_ , Sawamura?"  
  
"Only a little," Sawamura laughs. "I'm sure you have some other good qualities that make up for being dull."  
  
"Apparently I have enough for me to be your _favorite_. I told you I would grow on you, didn't I? You _like_ me. I'm your _friend_ , aren't I?" Kuroo jeers. He imagines the look on Sawamura's face, exasperation with perhaps a smidge of warmth, a crease in his eyebrows and his arms folded, and is struck with the desire to experience it in person. This must be what Kenma feels like, when the shorty texts him. It's tough to have long distance friends.  
  
Sawamura scoffs. "Don't let it go to your head, or I'll delete you for real." But that's all he says, no rebuttals, no disclaimers...  
  
"Oh my god, you're not denying it! I _am_ your favorite captain. Put Sugawara back on the phone; I need to gloat to someone."   
  
"Hell no, like I trust the two of you together. With the shit he'd tell you, I'd never be able to look you in the eye again."  
  
"It's that bad?"  
  
"It's that bad. Oh, but there is someone you can talk to- oi, Tanaka, put that away before it gets confiscated, jeez- sorry, wait, lemme hand him the phone-"  
  
"Sure?" Kuroo says, shrugging. There's a shuffle of noise in the background; he thinks he can hear Hinata's voice, but he can't make out the words. He tugs at a loose string on his socks until someone starts speaking; this time, it's a voice he recognizes well.  
  
"Thank you for the blocking practice, Kuroo-san. It was more valuable than I expected," Tsukki says concisely, and then there's noise again before Kuroo can even say anything. Ha. That punk.   
  
"-do you need the barf bag, Yamaguchi? It's only-oh, hey Kuroo, you talked to Tsukishima already?" Sawamura sounds distracted by whatever's happening on the bus.  
  
"We said what needed to be said. You seem busy; you should probably go get the barf bag whether he needs it or not," Kuroo says, still unraveling the strand in his hand, unspooling the cuff of his sock.  
  
"Yeah," Sawamura sighs. "He's looking pretty gray."  
  
"Congratulations again. Don't slack off during your break, though. I'll be pissed if you guys drop out in the first round."  
  
"Same to you; don't lose until we meet again. See you, Kuroo."  
  
"See ya, Sawamura." He hangs up, and stares dumbly at the pile of thread he's pulled off his sock. As he's debating whether to keep it or just toss the pair out, his dad calls him down for dinner. Before heading downstairs after shutting the balcony door, he glances one more time at the photo on his phone. Absently, he wonders what it would take to make Sawamura smile at him like that. Maybe if they were teammates, but that's a whole world of possibilities he'll never know. What he does know is that his team's rival is finally making their way back to the top, and Nekoma's going to meet them there.  
  
It's two and a half weeks until the playoffs.  
  
Three months until Spring High. Three months until Nekoma and Karasuno will meet on the national court.  
  
He's looking forward to it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll be a while until the next update after this one; I wanted to write this chapter quickly before canon proved me wrong. This chapter contains tons of spoilers through chapter 196, and some optimistic predictions for the turnout of a certain match. Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading!

from hoot hoot hoot: (5:00) _made it 2 the semifinals!!!!!_  
(5:00) _whooooop whooooooooop_  
  
(5:01) **why are you texting me, i'm sitting 2m away**  
  
(5:02) _isnt this what u do now_  
(5:02) _text all ur buddies when u win_  
  
(5:03) **dude** **not when we're literally at the same tournament**  
  
(5:04) _then gimme sawamuras #_  
(5:04) _i bet hed be happy 4 me_  
  
(5:05) **nope**  
  
(5:05) _wtf y not_  
  
(5:06) **get your own miyagi captain**  
(5:06) **this one's mine**  
  
"Why are you so stingy?!" Bokuto finally yells, having gotten sick of texting Kuroo, who's sitting five seats down from him. Washio shrinks down in his chair to avoid getting caught in the crossfire; the others between take note and hunker down as well. Shibayama has practically melted into his seat.  
  
"You should know by now that cats don't like to share," Kuroo yells back, sticking his tongue out. To his left, Kenma shifts, trying to make himself invisible.  
  
"That doesn't apply when we're talking about friends. You're _my_ friend, so your friends are my friends too!"  
  
"How does that even make sense?"  
  
"You'd get it if you didn't suck at math!"  
  
"This has nothing to do with math! And I'm great at everything!"  
  
"Bokuto-san, Kuroo-san, please stop shouting inanities at each other while the rest of us are trying to watch Shinzen's game." Akaashi's voice is as level as ever, but there's a creeping sense of danger emanating from his body. Bokuto slumps back into his seat, still glaring daggers at Kuroo from over his teammates' heads, but Kuroo ignores him in favor of watching the last quarterfinals match. Fukurodani and Itachiyama have each earned a spot in the final representative matches alongside Nekoma; the last spot will go to Nohebi or Shinzen.  
  
He watches the match below, but it's pretty clear that Shinzen's currently outmatched by Nohebi. They might be able to take back the 2nd set, but it looks like it's gonna be an uphill climb. Considering the already stiff competition Nekoma's going to have to take on to secure a spot at nationals, Shinzen winning would be more advantageous than that dirty team of snakes. Kuroo winces as another combination attack is blocked, and turns to make a comment to Kenma, until he notices him occupied with his phone.  
  
Peering over Kenma's shoulder, he frowns when he sees what his friend is doing. "Why are you texting Bokuto? What's with all of you people? He's seriously just three steps away."  
  
"He wanted Shouyou's number," Kenma says with a shrug, sending his message off.  
  
"Huh, weird. How's the shrimp doing, anyhow?"  
  
"He and his scary setter almost failed another test the other day."  
  
"The very definition of volleyball idiots. They're quite a pair." Kuroo has enough on his plate just training Lev and dragging Kenma to practice; Yamamoto's boisterous, but without someone like Karasuno's Tanaka to play off of, it doesn't take too much to tame the tiger. Even Fukurodani only has Bokuto's moods to deal with. He has no idea how Sawamura handles the combination of his oddball set and prickly Tsukishima, not to mention the scaredy-cat ace, and hot-blooded libero all together. Suga and the manager must also have their hands full.  
  
"Match point," Yaku says quietly, and they turn their attention back to watch the serve. The teams volley back and forth several times, Shinzen almost pulling off a successful combination, but in the end, Nohebi takes the match. The Tokyo finals' teams are decided. They clap along with the rest of the crowd, but exit before getting caught in the crush, both teams waiting outside the stadium for their respective buses. Kuroo's double checking to make sure everyone's got their jackets and bags when he hears Bokuto shout for him.  
  
Bokuto slides up and throws his arm around Kuroo's shoulders, smushing their cheeks together and taking a selfie before Kuroo can even register what's happening. "Your selfie game is weak," Bokuto tells him. Kuroo looks mostly blank and a little dumbfounded while Bokuto's winking and shooting a finger gun with his free hand; the whole picture is at a weird angle that catches Fukurodani's Shirofuku in the top right corner.  
  
"Yeah, I look like crap. Do it again," Kuroo commands.  
  
"Okay, do something cute this time," Bokuto says, holding his phone up again. This time they each throw a peace sign, faces still pressed together so that the feathery tips of Bokuto's hair tickle Kuroo's forehead. "Lookin' good, Kuroo."  
  
"What is this, a commemorative photo? Why not wait until tomorrow?"  
  
"Don't you want a memento to document your youth? Something to look back fondly on when we're international volleyball stars?"  
  
"I thought you were all about living in the moment," Kuroo says.   
  
"That's true," Bokuto agrees, typing away with his thumbs. "But I wanted a reminder of your happy face before we beat Nekoma."  
  
Kuroo twitches at the reminder of their upcoming trials. "Haaah, isn't it too soon to be getting so full of yourself? Our teams might not even play each other."  
  
"Well, now I have it just in case, Kuroo-kun. See you tomorrow!" Bokuto says, blowing Kuroo a kiss and dashing off when Akaashi waves him over from the bus. Kuroo watches him go, eyes narrowed; Bokuto's up to something, for sure.  
  
He collects Inuoka and Yamamoto from where they're hanging around the outskirts of the crowd around the girls' teams, and bustles them in along with the rest of Nekoma onto their own bus. Kenma dozes off ten minutes into the ride, his head continually slipping off Kuroo's arm to flop forward. He has to check in every few minutes to push Kenma back against his seat, which somehow manages to be the most interesting thing happening on the bus right now, since the whole team's asleep. He resorts to counting how many taxis pass by between each moment Kenma falls over to entertain himself until his phone vibrates in his pocket. He's received another photo message.  
  
from my precious friend daichi: (5:39) _Nice face!_  
  
Kuroo finds himself staring back at his own stupid, vacant expression and Bokuto's winking face. That fucker. He must've strong-armed Sawamura's number out of Hinata since Kuroo wouldn't give it to him. And what was the point of the taking another picture if he was just going to send the first one anyway? He'd better head off any trouble Bokuto's trying to stir up while he still has the chance.   
  
(5:41) **this photo is not an accurate depiction of me**  
(5:41) **DO NOT talk to bokuto**  
(5:42) **the owl man is full of lies**  
  
(5:43) _?_  
(5:44) _He told me that you've both made it to the semi finals._  
(5:45) _Is that not true?_  
  
(5:46) **no that part's true**  
(5:46) **our last games are tomorrow**  
(5:46) **but ignore everything else he tells you**  
(5:47) **it's slander, all of it**  
  
(5:48) _...are you telling me that Akaashi ISN'T sleeping 5 hours a night?_  
(5:48) _And that Bokuto really isn't going to eat a whole cabbage when he gets home??_  
  
(5:49) **the fuck**  
(5:50) **what kind of shit do you two talk about**  
  
(5:51) _Haha, I don't know how we wound up there._  
(5:52) _It started off as a discussion about how Noya and Komi handle their receives but_  
(5:53) _We got distracted?_  
(5:53) _Or, I guess he distracted me...?_  
  
(5:53) **oh  
** (5:54) **so uh**  
(5:54) **he didn't say anything about me?**  
  
This is exactly why he didn't want the two talking to each other. Kuroo gets along great with Bokuto, and he gets along fine with Sawamura, but he doesn't have a solid grasp on how they mix together - he doesn't think they talked much one on one during the training camps, and some part of him is weirdly glad about it. Kuroo's always been better than Kenma at getting on with people, and given that, he's been a firm believer of trying to encourage cross-socialization between any and all of his friends. Whatever it takes to help Kenma belong. But this case is different. Kuroo can't explain why he feels so territorial over each of them, but he does, and it's causing him to lose his cool. Maybe because Bokuto's been his partner in crime for the last three years, and Sawamura's his...something. Fated rival, he supposes. No matter the case, they were both Kuroo's friends first.  
  
(5:56) _Nothing much_  
(5:57) _Except that you're stingy_  
(5:57) _And you can't block his spikes_  
(5:57) _And have bad taste in pants_  
(5:58) _Okay, so he said a lot._  
(5:58) _Did you two have a fight?_  
  
Ugh, if he knew that denying Bokuto was going to lead him into one of his funks, he would've just given in. Now Sawamura probably thinks they had a falling out or something.  
  
(5:59) **no**  
(5:59) **he's just mad i wouldn't give him your number**  
(6:00) **which he found a way around anyway**  
(6:00) **you two are talking up a storm,** **so i dunno what he's got to complain about**  
  
(6:01) _Kuroo_  
(6:02) _Are you jealous?_  
  
What.  
  
What???  
  
(6:03) **what**  
(6:03) **no**  
(6:03) **what are you even saying**  
  
(6:04) _Dunno, that's what Suga said_  
(6:04) _He's reading over my shoulder when he should GO DO YOUR HOMEWORK SUGA YES THAT MEANS STOP READING MY TEXTS  
_ (6:06) _Sorry_  
(6:06) _Anyway, you don't have to worry, you know._  
(6:06) _I know you're really close to Bokuto_  
(6:07) _I'm not going to like try and steal his friendship from you_  
(6:07) _There's nothing for you to be insecure about_  
  
There isn't. Sawamura's right. There's no reason for Kuroo to be selfish; Sawamura needs more volleyball contacts and Bokuto needs more sensible, loyal friends. Kuroo was just being petulant, like a single child who hasn't learned how to play with other kids yet. That's all this was: a brat's tantrum over having to share his favorite toys with a classmate. But he keeps staring at his phone until Kenma faceplants onto his hand. By the time he situates his pudding-headed friend onto his arm again, Sawamura's sent him a weird emoticon.  
  
(6:09) ( ・_・)ノ”(ﾉﾉ_ <、)  
(6:09) _The one on the right is you_  
(6:10) _You know, with the hair over your eye_  
(6:10) _I'm uh petting you on the head?_  
(6:11) _Yeah okay I'm going to stop describing emojis to you now_  
  
(6:12) **i'm kind of mad at how accurate it looks**  
(6:12) **but thanks**  
(6:13)  **♡＼(ﾉﾉ▽｀)／♡**  
(6:13) **i guess i'm just sort of on edge because of the semifinals**  
  
(6:14) _No worries, I get it._  
(6:14) _Don't tell Bokuto but_  
(6:15) _Karasuno's rooting for you guys_  
(6:15) _Bring Nekoma to nationals, Kuroo._  
  
(6:16) **awwww thanks you're my favorite captain too, sawamura**  
  
(6:17) _Ha, it's nice of you to play along, but we both know it's not true._  
(6:18) _Good luck against Fukurodani!_  
(6:18) _I think Bokuto's forgiven you now. He sent me another picture._  
(6:19) _Peace signs, really?_  
(6:20) _Nerd._  
  
(6:21) **can't go wrong with the classics**  
  
By the next time Kenma tumbles out of his seat, the bus is pulling up to Nekoma, so Kuroo lets him shake himself awake on the floor of the bus while he reaches over the back of his seat to poke Lev and Kai awake. It's already getting late and they need to get off to an early start tomorrow. The team parts to go home, Kenma stumbling half-awake alongside Kuroo as they walk together. Kuroo's running through possible matchups for the semi-finals, and the best strategies to stick to for each when his phone vibrates again. Odd.  
  
from unknown: (6:32) _A gift for you, Kuroo Tetsurou!!!_  
(6:33)  _You two are equally photogenic~!_  
  
The sender must be Sugawara, because the attached photo shows him grinning in the bottom corner, while Sawamura stares blankly at the camera, an energy bar hanging from his mouth and one cheek puffed up like a chipmunk's. Like he has any right to call anyone a nerd when he looks like that. Kuroo makes an involuntary 'snnkk' noise, and instantly saves it to his album.   
  
Kenma wakes up a bit at the noise, and straightens up his spine. "Are you ready?" he asks quietly, sticking his hands in his pockets. He looks smaller than usual, but his eyes are sharp, even in the dark.  
  
Kuroo puts his phone away and bumps him gently, replying, "Yes. You are too. I told you, didn't I? We're stronger because of you. We're going to be strong enough to win it all."  
  
Kenma says nothing, but he bumps Kuroo back as they turn down the road toward their street. The city grows as quiet as they do, in preparation for what's to come.  
  
Victory, after so many years. Validation, as the first touch of winter reaches Tokyo.  
  
And after the winter, spring.  
  
\--  
  
Fukurodani overtakes them in two sets, no matter how perfectly Kenma sets or how many spikes Yaku rescues. The fact is Bokuto isn't one of the top five spikers in the country for nothing. But the ace is only as good as his team, and all of Fukurodani, especially Akaashi, matches Bokuto step for step; at the end of the day, Nekoma's been outplayed by a better team.  
  
There's no time to dwell on that loss though, because their last chance is barely an hour away. Kenma wants Kuroo to lift Lev's spirits, but there's not much to say to him that he doesn't already know. Lev's a good kid; a little green still, not quite seamless with the rest of the team, but he'll get there. There's nothing left but to believe that he can make it work for this game against Nohebi, because the alternative is not an option.  
  
Nekoma isn't going to lose here.  
  
Not when Nekomata-sensei's nearing the end of his career, this time for his final retirement. Not when Kenma's finally found someone who makes him want to love volleyball the way Kuroo does. Not when Karasuno's waiting for them again at Spring High.  
  
He pauses for a moment in the doorway with Yaku and Kai, drinking in the scene of the court before them. The stadium lights, the chatter of the audience and the cheers of their supporters echoing off the high ceilings and the polished wooden floors. Their three year journey isn't going to end here, not when they've fought so hard to make themselves what they are today.  
  
Kuroo takes a breath, pushing out all his thoughts of what has happened and what's still in store. It's time to play.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
\--  
  
Kuroo doesn't cry when they beat Nohebi, but it's a close thing. He does let Yamamoto and Fukunaga jump on him while Lev swings Kenma around in the air, screaming. Once Kenma's back on solid ground, Kai and Yaku grab up the two of them up and drag them into the group hug the rest of them are already engaged in. His heart is still pounding from their match point, the sight of that perfect arc from Kenma's toss to Lev's outstretched hand and the thundering clap of the ball smacking against the court. Looks like their baby ace is a little more grown up than they thought.  
  
He shakes Daishou's hand, they all bow, and the rest of the afternoon is a blur. He doesn't get to speak to Bokuto again before they leave for dinner, but he does spot him at the other end of the court, about to exit with his team, and he points directly at him when they make eye contact. A challenge, an acknowledgement. Bokuto beams at him, brilliant as ever, and points back before he walks through the door. Kuroo exhales gustily while watching him go; if Fukurodani was difficult in the playoffs, he can only imagine what kind of fight they have ahead of them at Spring High.  
  
But that's something to worry about later. For now, it's time to celebrate.  
  
They go out for barbeque, and Kuroo makes sure to pile all his teammates' plates high with vegetables as well. Can't have them eating poorly now even though it'll be over a month before their next official match. Kenma looks sort of dazed as he picks at his slice of beef, but he helps Inuoka pour out a glass of water, and even almost laughs when Yaku starts scolding Yamamoto for burning his tongue. While he's turning over the onions on the grill, Kuroo's phone buzzes and almost vibrates off the table, saved only by Kenma's quick hand.  
  
from hoot hoot hoot: (5:50) _u did it!!!! yaaaaaaaaayyyyy nekoma yaaayy kuroo_  
  
(5:51) **yeah yeah no thanks to you**  
(5:52) **good job though**  
(5:52) **you wrecked us today**  
(5:53) **keep it up and you might even become the greatest ace in the nation**  
  
(5:53) _haha well if hinata rly took down ushiwaka then only 4 more 2 go right???_  
(5:55) _neway kuroo coach says were gonna train w/ u again_  
(5:56) _u tell lev 2 meet me in the gym_  
(5:57) _ur boy still dont kno how 2 block_  
  
(5:58) **alright will do**  
(5:58) **send my regards to akaashi and the team**  
(5:59) **i'll think of them as i stress eat my way through this pork belly**  
  
(6:00) _u got bbq?? not fair dude_  
  
"Is that Karasuno's captain?" Kenma asks. He's stacked the mushrooms on his plate into a little tower that Kuroo really wants to knock down. "I told Shouyou that we won, so he might already know, but maybe not."  
  
"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot to give him the update. Hey, you better eat all those mushrooms," Kuroo says, jabbing at Kenma with his chopsticks.  
  
"You're not my mom, Kuro," he grumbles, taking a few more bean sprouts from Kuroo's plate. Kuroo smirks and slides the whole pile of sprouts onto Kenma's plate before texting Sawamura.  
  
to my precious friend daichi: (6:07) **hey guess what i've got some good news**  
  
(6:08) _You won?!_  
(6:08) _Great job, I knew you guys could do it!!!_  
(6:09) _I'll tell the others tomorrow at practice, though I'm sure Hinata already knows haha_  
  
(6:09) **huh?**  
(6:10) **no that's not what i was gonna say**  
  
(6:10) _Hm?? what is it_  
  
(6:11) **i got a rare figurine from the gacha machine the other day**  
(6:11) **i just wanted to brag to someone**  
  
(6:12) _Stop fucking with me Kuroo or I'll take the next train to Tokyo to throttle you_  
(6:13) _Did you win or not?_  
(6:13) _nvm I'm just gonna google it_  
  
(6:13) **okay calm down there mister**  
(6:14) **we won a tokyo rep spot**  
(6:14) **got thrashed first by bokuto but we did it in the 3rd place match vs nohebi**  
  
(6:15) _Are you trying to give me an ulcer??_  
(6:16) _Because joke's on you, I'll have recovered by the time we play we each other, so there's no point._  
  
(6:17) **were you worried about us sawamura???**  
(6:17) **that's sweet but you should know**  
(6:18) **cats always land on their feet**  
  
(6:18) _You talk a good game like always, Kuroo, but_  
(6:19) _I know you're like me_  
(6:19) _Even though you knew you would win_  
(6:20) _Getting it done is a whole other matter_  
(6:20) _But, hey, you did it, so gloat away_  
(6:21) _I'll listen this once._  
  
"Hey, Kuroo-san, are you okay? You look kind of lost," Lev yells from across the table, causing Kuroo to jerk his head up to look at him.  
  
"Yeah, I'm good," Kuroo responds, stuffing a piece of eggplant in his mouth. "Did you get enough to eat? Make sure you try some yakitori. Take some extra for your sister and Akane-chan, too." He gets up and brings the tray of chicken skewers over to Lev who bounces up to receive them.  
  
"Thanks! Did you get indigestion, captain? You had a dopey look on your face before." Lev's green eyes are gleaming and devoid of malice; the kid just has no tact at all. Kuroo's fairly sure Kenma's not a great influence in that sense either.  
  
"Oi, watch yourself, kiddo." Kuroo takes his fist and raps his knuckles lightly against Lev's forehead. "Take care of yourself before you worry about your senpai." Lev makes an awkward bow and scurries off to deliver his tray of meat, while Kuroo returns to his seat to answer Sawamura.  
  
(6:28) **not gonna gloat this time**  
(6:29) **i'm just going to promise  
** (6:29) **to meet you again at the trash heap**  
  
(6:30) _Not the most appealing proposition I've ever received, but I accept_  
(6:31) _Actually, I'll raise you one_  
(6:32) _Promise me that the winner of the trash heap will go on to take the whole tournament._  
(6:33) _I mean, it's going to be Karasuno, but_  
  
(6:34) **but if it isn't, it'll be us**  
(6:34) **nekoma or karasuno**  
(6:35) **one of us will be crowned champion, i promise**  
  
(6:36) _Good. Let's make it happen.  
_  
This year is going to be their year, for one of their schools, one way or another. King of the trash heap, national champions, graduating third years, soon to be college freshmen. There's so much up ahead for both of them, so much Kuroo still wants to do, and he feels the anticipation running down his spine to the tips of his fingers and toes. He thinks he's starting to understand what Sawamura means when he says he's electric.  
  
"Look, Lev's right!" Yamamoto says, tugging on Fukunaga's arm. "The captain's making a weird face. Are you going to cry, Kuroo-san? You should've done it earlier with the rest of us!"  
  
"Quiet down, Tora," Kenma says. "You're making a fool of yourself in front of Lev's sister again."  
  
Kuroo schools his face back into his usual lazy expression and flicks an edamame bean at Yamamoto's face. "Kenma's right. If you keep on like this, how will you get a girlfriend before high school ends?"  
  
Yamamoto splutters as Inuoka and Shibayama laugh at him. Grabbing his cup of water, Kuroo leaves Kenma's side to join Kai and Yaku to watch their underclassmen enjoy themselves. They each nod at him when he squeezes in besides Kai, and Kuroo thinks about the first time they all met, nervous and shaking with competitive energy as they introduced themselves to their club seniors. Yaku used to have quite the bad temper, and Kai only answered questions with the shortest sentences possible. Kuroo...well, Kuroo used to be even better at pissing people off than he is now, except back then it was unintentional. But here they are now, so close to tasting glory again, with a whole club of players who actually look up to them for guidance. What a world.  
  
"I'm so proud of us three," he sighs into his drink, swirling his cup. Kai laughs, and Yaku slaps Kuroo on the knee, but he's smiling too. This is Kuroo's team, and he wouldn't want to come this far with anyone else by his side.  
  
\--  
  
December begins, and Kuroo's life turns to studying and training. When he's not on the court, he's hitting the books. Snow comes to Miyagi before it does Tokyo, and Sawamura sends Kuroo a picture of him and Nishinoya shoving snow down their ace's shirt. He finds himself texting Sawamura even more now that nationals is looming on the horizon, but not only about volleyball. The stuff they talk about isn't as random as it is with Bokuto, and it's usually more tasteful, but he learns more about Sawamura in December than all the previous combined months of their acquaintance. It's the little things, the tidbits of information you gather about a friend after talking to them everyday about stupid stuff, but Kuroo thinks it's better than any big secret ever could be.  
  
After showering one evening, Kuroo sits under the kotatsu using one hand to dry his hair and the other to make a list of what to bring to the team's mystery nabe party before the end of the trimester, when what he really should be doing is highlighting passages from his English textbook. So far, the only things on his list are mackerel and melon bread, so he decides to enlist some help.  
  
to strikeout sawamura: (6:11) **what would you put in a yami nabe for optimum hilarity**  
  
(6:12) _Who are you eating with?_  
  
(6:12) **the team obviously**  
  
(6:13) _Any allergies?_  
  
(6:13) **nope**  
  
(6:14) _Something sticky, like natto or caramel_  
(6:14) _Watermelon cubes_  
(6:14) _A whole potato_  
(6:15) _Hot peppers_  
(6:15) _Pineapple kit kats_  
(6:16) _No, maple kit kats!_  
(6:16) _Strawberry milk kit kats? Blueberry cheesecake?? Or something standard like matcha or chocolate?_  
  
(6:19) **damn dude how much do you like kit kats**  
  
(6:20)  _Sorry, I'm just hungry._  
(6:20)  _Making flash cards really gets the appetite going._  
  
(6:21)  **how's the study session**  
  
(6:22)  _Besides having to put Tsukishima and Kageyama in separate rooms_  
(6:23)  _And Noya almost throwing Kinoshita's notes in the garbage_  
(6:24) _And Suga punching Asahi every time Hinata gets a question wrong_  
(6:25) _And Yachi on the verge of a breakdown_  
(6:25) _We're great!_  
(6:25) _So great._  
  
(6:26)  **do you need to be rescued**  
  
(6:27)  _god yes please I'm dying  
_  
(6:28) **i'll call you**  
(6:28) **pretend it's like your mom or your coat or something**  
(6:29) **or your vice principal finally condemning you for your sins**  
  
(6:30) _My coat?_  
  
(6:30) **coach* fuck you sawamura you know what i meant**  
  
(6:31) _Haha sorry please call soon my hand is cramping i can't write anymore flash cards_  
(6:32) _crap suga's coming this way i think asahi's all punched out_  
(6:32) _it's my turn shit_  
(6:32) _s  a  v  e     m  e_  
  
It only takes two rings before Sawamura picks up, hurriedly saying, "-sorry Suga, gotta step out for a second. It's my- uh, my mom. It's my mom calling."  
  
"Stop lying, Daichi. Someone needs to help Noya with trigonometry; he barely pulled a 70% last time. Our rolling thunder is on the line here!" Suga's melodious voice isn't so sweet when he's bringing down the hammer, but Sawamura must manage to elude him, since he sounds far away.  
  
"Tell him to finish Japanese lit with Ennoshita first, okay? I'll be right back." Kuroo hears his footsteps thumping against the floor and the sounds of other people fading away. "Hey, coat."  
  
"This is how you greet your savior? I should just hang up and throw you back to the wolves."  
  
"Ugh, Kuroo, my brains are completely fried," Sawamura groans. "Is it winter vacation yet?"  
  
"Why are you in such a rush?"  
  
"You know why," and Kuroo does, it's true. It's only a few days until winter, but time seems to have slowed down to the repetitive push and pull of everyday life. Even as time seems to be running out as the days grow short, life drags along. Kuroo wiggles his toes under the kotatsu, savoring the heat soaking through his legs.   
  
"Ah, it's because you're excited to see me again, isn't it? I can send you more pictures of my face to tide you over."  
  
"No," Sawamura says sternly. "Last time I almost dropped my phone in the gutter when Suga made your face my background picture. Never again."  
  
"You're awful, Sawamura."  
  
"You're a pest, Kuroo."  
  
"Stick in the mud."  
  
"Ne'er-do-well," and there's that feeling of victory that comes whenever Kuroo can hear the smile in Sawamura's voice. "So, Captain Good for Nothing, what are you going to bring to your nabe party?"  
  
"I like your potato idea. I think I'll just use whole potatoes. Nothing else."  
  
"You're going to make your team eat boiled potatoes in the dark?"  
  
"Well, it sounds sad when you say it that way."  
  
"They'll riot," Sawamura laughs. "Bring kit kats instead."  
  
"Kit kats will melt. It'll be repulsive."  
  
"Live a little, Tetsurou."  
  
Kuroo was ready to go with another glib response, but the shock of hearing his first name out of Sawamura's mouth causes him to try to swallow his tongue into his lungs and he winds up choking on his spit instead, coughing violently into his phone. "Hurk."  
  
"Whoa, are you okay? Kuroo? Slow down and breathe. In and out, in and out," he instructs. Kuroo closes his eyes for a second, trying to regain control over his breathing. He inhales and exhales along with Sawamura's directions, until his stops coughing everywhere like a loser. "Go get a cup of water. I can wait."  
  
"No, I'm good," Kuroo rasps, slumping over onto the kotatsu table. "Let's pretend that didn't happen."  
  
"Are you getting sick? I heard a storm might be headed your way in the next few days. Make sure you wear a scarf."  
  
Kuroo rolls his eyes. Typical Sawamura. "Yes, dear. Anything else you want to nag me about?"  
  
"Oh, are we playing this game again? What was it you said last week? 'Sawamura, don't sleep with wet hair, you'll catch a cold. Drink more milk or all your teeth will fall out!' "  
  
"Okay, so I nag too. I'm just worried about your remaining pearly whites."  
  
"Thank you for your concern," Sawamura says, amused. "Hey, when we come to Tokyo-" he starts to say, but someone in the background begins yelling.  
  
"Daichi, it's a code red! Tsukishima's trying to escape the house again," says Azumane's watery voice. "Kageyama's really done it now, a-and, Yamaguchi was gone for a second, but-"  
  
"Dammit," Sawamura mutters. "Gotta go wrangle some escaping tutors again. Remember, Kuroo, kit kats. Talk to you later," and with another scream in the background he's gone. Kuroo wonders what he was going to say about visiting Tokyo, but he'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.  
  
He locks his phone, then thinks better of it. He quickly makes a horrible face, snaps a quick pic, and sends it to Sawamura despite his earlier protests. Then he writes 'kit kats' on his nabe list and finally picks up his textbook. He's gotta ace this final to keep his grades up for his college apps. His heart is already skipping right on past December into January, but his brain knows better. There's much to do before then.  
  
It's going to be a new year soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: yami-nabe is apparently an event where friends each bring some secret ingredients to make nabe (hot pot stew) together, and then eat it in the dark and suffer through the consequences of whatever weird food's been thrown in the pot. Sounds fun!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of two chapters that cover Spring High; I used [this post](http://honyakukanomangen.tumblr.com/post/112431023733/japan-mens-high-school-volleyball-calender) as reference for the tournament structure, and just made up everything else, so the realism might be a little shaky, haha.
> 
> Thanks to [chromyrose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chromyrose/pseuds/chromyrose) for reminding me about Daichi's birthday! I hope you all like the chapter!!

Herding cats may be a chore, but it doesn't hold a candle to herding crows.

"I think we lost some of yours again," Kuroo says as he tries to count them with his umbrella. He's wearing his volleyball jacket around his waist as a sort of bright red sash to attract their eyes, and he'd even brought his umbrella to really complete the tour guide look, but some of those Karasuno kids have managed to vanish anyway. He spots Kenma still walking next to Hinata and one of the 2nd years and sighs in relief. At least Kuroo doesn't have to hunt him down yet.

Sugawara spins on his toes and scans the team with narrowed eyes, before elbowing Sawamura. "Yamaguchi, Kageyama, and Noya."

Sawamura, who had been window shopping until taking Suga's hit to the gut, straightens up, still looking mildly stunned. "Tanaka," he bellows, shocking the whole group first into looking at their captain, then at Tanaka, who's standing straight at attention.

"Yes, Daichi-san?!" he yelps.

"When's the last time you saw Noya?"

"Uh, when we passed that clothing store? I remember he said the shop girl was almost as pretty as Kiyoko-san, so- uh. Not that I agree!" Tanaka splutters, waving his arms. "Kiyoko-san is the most beautiful for me!" She stares back at him, unfazed, but Kuroo sees her little blonde trainee nodding vehemently by her side.

"That was what, like one block back? Alright, you guys go on ahead, I'll go fetch them." Sawamura sighs and cracks his neck, already a little worn from corralling his team even though it's barely 2 p.m. Karasuno had arrived this morning to get some sightseeing in before the start of the tournament, since they had been excused from school for the day anyway. Kuroo wonders if Sawamura’s regretting his "Tokyo Tour" plan yet. The saving grace is that coach's orders say they have to be back at the hotel by 5 p.m. so it's only a few more hours left to worry about.

"Hey, don't you go getting lost either, country boy," Kuroo says.

"You're allowed to talk to me when you stop losing your setter," Sawamura retorts, causing Kenma to jump, but he flashes him an apologetic smile, and the tension in Kenma's shoulders releases slightly. "Narita, you come with me. You're good at directions."

"Sure, captain," buzz-cut says, and trots after Sawamura as they backtrack to find their missing teammates.

"There's a cake shop up ahead. The one with the pink awning. We'll meet you guys in there," Kuroo calls after them. He waits for Sawamura to lift a hand in acknowledgement before leading his tour group onward. "Alright, my little crows, after me. Prepared to be amazed; I guarantee no cake in Miyagi compares to this one."

"You don't need to show off, Kuro. We're the only ones listening," Kenma says, peering over the edge of his DS, before gesturing at himself, Hinata and Azumane, who waves sheepishly back at Kuroo.

"Don't underestimate me," Kuroo clucks at him, and waves his umbrella in the air to re-capture Karasuno's attention, but they're all too distracted by all the shops and the sights along the street. It's a miracle that they're even standing more or less in two straight lines, as out of the way of passing foot traffic as possible. He huffs, then turns around to march onward, ignoring Kenma's eyeroll.

They manage to make it to the shop and all crowd in without much incident, the underclassmen sitting down at the long table while Sugawara starts collecting their drink orders. The 2nd year with the sandy hair, Kuroo thinks it's Kinoshita, makes to pull out his own wallet as well when it's his turn, but he's stopped by Suga's hand on his arm.

"Let your senpai treat you once in a while. Besides," Suga says with that deceptively angelic smile, as he brandishes a wad of bills, "Daichi's paying for most of it anyway."

"We'll each buy our own cake, at least," Kinoshita says.

"No need," Kuroo interjects. "I've already got it covered. Like I said, this cake is special." He leaves them to finish their order and goes to flag down the girl at the counter. She checks his name and nods, before disappearing into the back for a moment. When she returns, she's holding a cake box tied up with a neat blue ribbon; Kuroo accepts it and heads back to the table, where Suga's finished gathering his team's orders.

With a flourish, he deposits the box in the center of the table and undoes the ribbon to reveal the cake inside. It's a simple strawberry filled sponge cake, covered in a light frosting, but this bakery does an exceptional job of it. The team crowds around to examine it as Kuroo collects plates for each of them.

"Happy birthday?" Tsukishima reads. He raises an eyebrow as he meets Kuroo's gaze. "Whose birthday is this for, Kuroo-san?" There's something in his tone that nettles at Kuroo, so he shoots back a smile, and makes a sweeping gesture over the whole team.

"I heard that a lot of you are December and January babies, so I decided to buy you a group birthday cake out of the kindness of my heart," he says, making a heart shape with his hands. Tsukishima cocks his head just slightly, eyes narrowed, clearly buying Kuroo's story as much as Suga is – Suga, who's hiding a knowing smile behind his fan of money – but Kuroo isn't actually lying this time, so they can keep their gossipy suspicions to themselves. Azumane and Shimizu each bow at him, but he waves them off, going to cut the cake. He's torn about waiting for Sawamura and Kageyama to return, since they're both recipients as well, but they don't have all day.

One of the December kids, the responsible one, helps Kuroo slice the cake into even pieces after thanking him. He hands one plate to Kenma beside him, who mumbles a thanks, and the next plate to Hinata, who chirps, "Thank you, Ennoshita-san!" Ennoshita and Kuroo continue to divide the cake until there's a slice for everyone.

They’re short several chairs so Kuroo leans against the back of Kenma’s chair and prods at his cake with a fork as he watches the others eat. When the door jingles he looks up to see the rest of Karasuno filing in, Sawamura escorting them from the tail end. Suga and Azumane bring cake to them, and they fill in around the table with their teammates. Sawamura strides over to join Kuroo next to the wall, fork sticking out of his mouth.

He rests an arm on the back of Hinata’s chair, tilting his head to look at Kuroo with a weird look on his face, something between bemused and impressed. 

“Thanks for treating the team; you really didn’t have to. You’re already doing us a huge favor by leading us around town,” he says, taking the fork out of his mouth to cut off a small corner of his cake.

“Just doing what I can to convince you I’m a nice guy. I’m not above petty bribery,” Kuroo responds.

Sawamura laughs, and Kuroo’s talked to him enough over the phone by now for it not to feel like a surprise, but it’s different in person. It sounds lower, richer, and most importantly of all, it makes Sawamura’s face light up in a way Kuroo could never have imagined.

“I changed my mind about that a long time ago. You're actually a weirdly good person. It's really unsettling.” The laugh mellows into a smile and he takes that small bite of cake, a smidge of cream left behind on his lips. Kuroo wants to make a snarky comment, but a slip of pink tongue flicks out and licks the frosting away, and the words die in his throat before he can even conceive of them.

“Happy birthday,” he blurts instead, shoving a bite into his own mouth to buy time.

Sawamura blinks at him, then at his cake, but he looks pleased when he says, “So that’s what this is about. Thank you, Kuroo. Thanks for remembering all of us. Oh, but we didn’t do anything for your birthday.” He frowns, abashed, and points at Kuroo with his fork. “Next November, I owe you double. Remind me.”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at the declaration. “Planning that far in advance? You gonna come down and visit me?”

“Who knows? Maybe we’ll already be closer than you think,” Sawamura says, wiggling his fingers mysteriously. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kuroo registers the sound of a bunch of their companions getting worked up over something, but Sawamura’s words keep playing in his head like the skip in an old vinyl record.

“What does- are you coming to school here? In Tokyo?” That would be...pretty awesome. To hang out with Sawamura and Bokuto on weekends and in between classes. Maybe get the chance to play against their university teams. Or even on the same team together. 

“I applied to a couple of universities here. I’ll be coming down again after Spring High to take the entrance exams; maybe I’ll see you at one of them.” Exams have been pushed aside for now, but he’s going to have to jump right back into studying once nationals is over. But now, knowing that Sawamura might be at one of his exams, everything’s changed.

“Huh, way to spring this on a guy. How am I supposed to plan a day on the town with this little notice?” Kuroo exclaims.

Sawamura kicks at his ankle. “Kuroo, I’ll be here to take a test, not to hang out with you,” he says.

“That excuse doesn’t really hold up when I know you’re coming to school in Tokyo just to get a chance to bask in my company.”

“You huge narcissist.”

Kuroo shrugs. “I'm not gonna deny it.” Slyly, he rests his elbow on Sawamura’s shoulder, and points out, “And I see _you're_ not denying anything either. Are you really going to base your college decision around a boy, Sawamura? I mean, I _am_ great, and I'm extremely moved by your devotion, but this isn't very practical.”

“Is it your goal to make me want to throw you in the trash?” the other boy asks dryly, jabbing at Kuroo’s fingers lightly with the prongs of his plastic fork.

“You'd have to join me if you do; trash heap buddies stick together. Hey, if you do well on your test, I’ll take you to see the Tokyo Skytree as a reward.” They could at least do that much, probably.

“You really _are_ all about bribery,” Sawamura says. “Who says I want to see it, anyway? We have plenty of comm towers in Miyagi. You see one, you’ve seen them all.”

“How naive, Sawamura. The Tokyo Skytree is the second tallest building in the world, you know. A very impressive feat of architecture. Really romantic too. It’s a top date destination,” Kuroo sighs, extending an arm out to gesture at a young couple at the other end of the cake shop. “Everyone wants to see the Skytree.”

“That just means it’s overdone,” Sawamura scoffs through another mouthful of cake. “I don’t want to be surrounded by crowds of people on awkward first dates right after I finish an exam.”

“Where’s your sense of whimsy? You’re so cynical. Learn to appreciate the love that’s blossoming around you, you curmudgeon. You’ll have to get used to it anyway if you move here. Tokyo is the city of love, after all.”

“I’m 99% sure that’s Paris.”

Before Kuroo has a chance to think of a comeback, Kenma turns in his chair and pinches the skin above his elbow. “Ow, you don’t have to be so cruel, Kenma. Just call my name.” Kuroo pouts at his best friend, who has a stack of empty plates gathered in front of him.

“I did, but you were too busy with Sawamura-san to hear me,” Kenma says, wearing the same expression he has whenever he teases Yamamoto, and Kuroo flicks him back in the forehead as punishment. Kenma rubs grumpily at the reddening spot, and points to the line of Karasuno players milling toward the garbage bin with their cups. “I think everyone’s done. They want to go see Shibuya Crossing, but we’re waiting on your guidance, Mr. Tour Guide.”

“Shibuya Crossing? We’ll lose them all,” Kuroo says, aghast. Stuff like this happens in his nightmares, but it’s usually starring a flock of Kenma clones instead of Karasuno.

“I’ll try to talk them out of it,” Sawamura says. “Some of them wanted to go see Shinjuku Gyoen anyway, which should be a little safer.” He takes the stack of plates from Kenma and joins his team, cuffing a few of them on the head when they almost tip the bin over.

“Happy to see your friend again?” Kenma asks as he flips open his mobile game, using Kuroo’s own words against him without batting an eye. A lot of people think Kenma’s quiet and introspective, which is certainly true, but they don’t know that he’s a snarky little bastard underneath it all. After shying away from people for so many years, he’s finally mastered the art of hiding it, but it comes out around Kuroo and the team.

“I’m just being my usual, super nice self. Just because you suffer from over-exposure doesn’t mean that other people can’t still appreciate me.”

Kenma hums as he boots up his game. Over by the bin, Sugawara begins shoving the lot of his underclassmen toward the door. “Over-exposure...that’s the word for it. Stop coming to my house after dinner from now on, Kuro. I need to recover from seeing you so much at school.”

Kuroo gasps sharply. This must be what Bokuto feels like when Akaashi scolds him. “I just want to make sure you’re studying. I’m only here for a few more months, you know. If you keep trying to block me out, I’m going to write another cool motto about you and come back to teach it to all the new first years.”

With a shiver, Kenma hops off his seat, going to join Hinata at the doorway. “Kuro, I hope you know that when you’re gone, we’re not going to say the mantra anymore.”

“And I hope _you_ know that I’d be willing to make Yamamoto captain for the sole purpose of preserving my beautiful speech,” Kuroo retorts, jogging after him once he checks that the table is cleared of crumbs.

Kenma wrinkles his nose, but doesn’t look away from his game. “We’ll see about that,” he says as they exit. Kuroo summons everyone into line again, and they continue onward to the national garden.

 

After an impromptu jog through the garden caused by a spat of competitive spirit between the first and second years, they rest on the slope of a long hill, with Kuroo sitting beside Karasuno’s seniors. A couple of meters away, Kenma has been beset upon by the first years: Kageyama firing questions at him while Tsukki sneers and Hinata does his best to act as the middleman between the two setters.

To Kuroo’s right, Azumane looks up to the sky and begins speaking. “I can’t believe that tomorrow we-”

“NO,” Sawamura and Suga yell in unison. Suga spins around and begins shaking Azumane by the shoulders, sending his long hair whirling around. 

“Whoa there, is this some weird thing you guys do?” Kuroo asks. “I think you’re going to snap his neck.” Sawamura just shakes his head, face scrunched in distaste.

Azumane tries to scoot away on his butt, but Suga’s claws are still sunk into his shoulders, so he drags both of them up the hill past Kuroo. “Hurgh- Suga, please let go...ugh-”

“Not until you stop trying to curse us!” Suga hisses, accidentally letting his grip slip while Azumane continues crab-walking up the slope. He faceplants onto Azumane’s stomach, which knocks the wind out of him, and they flop over onto the grass.

“Good,” is all Sawamura says, with a definite finality, before he turns back to Kuroo, all smiles again. “How are your classes going? I know you aced your chem test, but you said you were having trouble with Japanese history again.”

“So we’re just going to pretend your setter didn’t just try and murder your ace?”

“Oh, it’s just Asahi being too sentimental again. He’s that kind of guy. But once you start waxing poetic about your bittersweet third year, it’s like asking for trouble. We can’t let him jinx us – not now, especially.”

Kuroo laughs as Sugawara finally rolls off Azumane, both of them looking worse for the wear. “That makes sense. It’s a little unfair to him though, don’t you think? I know we’ve gotten a bit sentimental from time to time.” They’ve talked about it before, all the insecurities that come with rebuilding a team from the bottom, and the perseverance that both of them were afraid they might let falter. Going from being first years with a single-minded, far-off dream, to third years with the potential for victory actually tangible for the first time.

“No, it’s different with you,” Sawamura says. “What you and I do is commiseration. It’s captain-to-captain pep talk type stuff,” and he gestures to the space between them, “not nostalgic sports club death flag conversation.” He points to where Suga is trying to rub grass into Azumane’s facial hair.

“Oh, is it?”

“Yes, they’re completely separate matters,” Sawamura says, poker face not giving an inch.

“I see, I see. Forgive my ignorance. So, classes. Yeah, history and English are kicking my ass, but at least the papers are over for now.” Kuroo picks up the topic Sawamura started, ignoring how the second years have run over to pry their upperclassmen apart.

“Yeah, Suga’s always been better at the language and lit classes than me,” Sawamura says, scooting closer to Kuroo so he doesn’t get bowled over by Tanaka.

“Is he willing to tutor me?”

“I think he already has his hands full with our team remedial lessons.” Kuroo can see the quiet second year trio dragging Suga away behind Sawamura’s back.

“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but, well. At least you guys are lively! Sometimes it takes me over half an hour to get Kenma to do anything social in his free time. That boy will be the death of me,” Kuroo says with a sigh. He lies down in the grass, which is dry and brittle from the cold. At least it hasn’t snowed recently.

Sawamura tucks his legs up and wraps his arms around his knees to keep out the chill. “It’s nice though, that you two have each other. None of my junior high friends besides Michimiya went to Karasuno, so I had to start anew with the team – not that I would ever trade Suga and Asahi for anyone, but there’s something steadfast between the two of you that we don’t quite have. Seijou’s captain and ace too: there’s this... _understanding_ that fosters when you’ve known each other so long, and I think sometimes three years isn’t enough to hold up to that,” he muses. Below them, Kenma starts shying away from whatever the oddball duo are bombarding him with, and Kuroo knows instinctively his next move will be to unfurl from his seated position and slink away at an unsteady diagonal. Sure enough, Kenma does exactly as he predicts, and Kuroo nods, comprehending what Sawamura’s getting at.

“None of you are going to the same school, are you?” he asks, turning his head to look up at Sawamura, who winces at the sudden gust of cold air rippling over the hill.

He looks over and past Kuroo’s prone form, at Azumane speaking to their libero, and presses his lips together, lost in thought for a second. “We haven’t discussed it at length, but I don’t think so. Suga and I both applied to a college near home, but it’s not a first choice for either of us. Asahi’s probably going to a small private university, and I guess I’m aiming for Tokyo.” Sawamura returns his gaze to Kuroo and shrugs helplessly, knowing that he’ll understand. “I always knew, obviously, that we were nearing the end, but...I just wish we had a little more time. This year, this team – I feel like it’s finally _our time_ , and it’s already almost over.”

Kuroo nods, raking his hand through the thin blades of grass under his fingers. He’s been trying not to think about it, leaving Kenma behind for the first time, and bidding his fellow seniors goodbye. They’ve been through so much together that it seems unfair that time and distance is what will inevitably pull them apart. “It feels like after we spent so much effort getting to the top, we’re already being told by everyone that it’s time to move on. That we need to think about our future, when all we want to do is stay here, in the present, playing with our teams for as long as possible. Yaku and Kai...I know we’re all going our separate ways too, but right now, I can’t afford to think about that. All we can do is enjoy every second we have left.” 

“That's right. Six whole matches; I should be glad we have so many more chances to play,” Sawamura concedes, also lying back flat on the ground, and Kuroo chuckles.

“I like your optimism, aiming to play all six.”

“Well, if you don't go into it intending to win, you'll never be able to. And that’s what we’re here to- what the hell are they doing?” Sawamura sits back up, glaring at his team. Kuroo flips over to see what he’s looking at, and sees Azumane lifted into the air onto the shoulders of several of the underclassmen. He has absolutely no idea what they’ve been doing for the last few minutes, but it looks like they’re about to charge down the hill.

“Should we rescue him?” Kuroo asks, but Sawamura’s already storming over, rolling up his sleeves in anger.

“Put him down this instant! Asahi’s about to faint!”

Kuroo watches the scene unfold, deciding it’s best for Sawamura to handle it himself. Sugawara throws himself down next to him, silver hair in disarray, and they both snort when Azumane is finally lowered back down and Sawamura chases the culprits down the hill, still waving his fist.

“You’re not going to help, Dad #2?” he asks the setter, who laughs, waving his hand airily. 

“Daichi can take care of it. You and I should probably round up the others. You’re meeting the rest of your team at 5, right? I think there’s still a few more quick stops we want to make before then.”

“Your wish is my command,” Kuroo says, and he helps the vice-captain up.

As they descend the hill, headed toward Karasuno’s two managers who are sitting together on a bench, Suga side-eyes Kuroo, mouth quirking up into an almost mischievous look. “Are you two doing more captain bonding again?” he asks, hands linked behind his back. 

“I think it’s more ‘people suffering through exam crunch time’ bonding, but that’s a little hard to say.”

“Haha, true enough. In any case, whatever it is you’re doing, keep up the good work. You're doing a great job.”

Kuroo cocks his head, trying to read Sugawara’s meaning from his expression, but all he gets is an open gratitude that he doesn’t comprehend. “I mean, I’m shallow as hell, so I’ll accept the compliment, but should I know what it’s for?”

Suga’s laugh is warm and sparkling, and Kuroo can tell it’s all-natural, but there’s also something a little dangerous under that intrinsic affability. He isn’t cunning in the same way Sawamura is, but there’s a strategist’s brain hiding behind that friendly smile, and Kuroo gets the feeling that it’s been analyzing him for longer than he realizes. His voice is colored with a hint of nostalgia when he speaks.

“Even when we were first years, Asahi and I knew that one day Daichi would be captain. And he's always done his best by us, and he would have worked twice as hard even if we were still without an adviser or a coach, but Takeda-sensei saved us from that fate. He got us a coach, and he brought you guys to us, and I don't think we knew at the time, but...meeting Nekoma was one of the best things to ever happen to this team, for more reasons than I can name.” Suga stops a stone’s throw short of the bench to turn back around and look at Sawamura for a moment; there's an affection in his eyes that Kuroo recognizes as the same way he looks at Kenma, or his fellow third years. “And I think you're one of those reasons, Kuroo.”

Kuroo has no response but to blink at Suga and scratch bashfully at a cowlick. “I think that's giving me a lot of credit. I'm sure I didn't do _that_ much for you guys.”

Suga shakes his head and turns his stern gaze on Kuroo. “You don't understand – we didn't have other schools to help us grow, and Daichi never had other captains to compare notes with, or talk to. We've been doing what we could on our own, but it's been hard, and I think the brunt of the pressure fell to Daichi to lead us. But look at us now! A lot of this change was thanks to Nekoma and all the other schools we had a chance to play, that gave us the chance to evolve.

“But _you_ , you're more than that. You gave Hinata and Tsukishima the tools they needed to grow as middle blockers. You're the first person Daichi’s ever confided in, outside the team. You're the first person who understood exactly what he's been going through, and supported him when he needed it. You might not see it, but you're special to our captain, Kuroo, and for that, I'll always be thankful. Deal with it.” He ends his confession by reaching out smacking Kuroo lightly on the forehead, more of a gentle tap than anything, but Kuroo understands it to be a wake-up call of some sort, and he nods.

“Yes, sir. I'll humbly accept that I'm the best.”

“That's the spirit!” Suga beams, then jogs off the rest of way, calling, “Shimizu! Yachi-chan! Are you ready to go?”

Kuroo follows him, a handful of steps behind, still mulling over what he's just learned. Sure, he jokes about being Sawamura’s favorite captain, but he's never actually considered it to be true in any meaningful capacity. He'd just aimed to be even friends, but there'd been no expectation of being _special_ , in any way. There's a sudden tug of pain in his chest, a strange searing flash under his ribcage that leaves him baffled. He presses a hand to his sternum, trying to feel out where the muscle spasm occurred, but the pain has already passed.

Across the path, Sawamura finally stumbles down from the hill after rounding up most of the team in one large blob around a statue. Kuroo helps Suga track down the remaining members, and they join the rest of the group, with him taking back the lead to escort them out of the garden. Sawamura falls into place near the head of the pack again, and when he catches Kuroo’s eye he gives a small wave, before turning back to Yamaguchi.

The way Sawamura looks at him seems totally ordinary to Kuroo, nothing exceptional about it, but he also knows he can’t read him as well as Suga can. If anything, Kuroo’s the one who’s overly invested in this friendship. Sawamura, who’s cunning enough to keep up with Kuroo, but decisive like Yaku and stable like Kai – he’s the one who’s special. He wonders if it's too obvious, how clearly he admires Sawamura, but though Kuroo’s always been known for his scheming nature, he's never been anything but frank about how he feels about his friends. So since Sawamura hasn't brushed him off yet, at the very least he can conclude that he likes him well enough, and that's all he can really ask for.

“Alright, turn this way, guys.” Kuroo brings his umbrella up again and pivots so he’s facing forward. He'll need to gather more data before he can draw his own conclusions, and there will be time enough for that later.

\--

Kuroo knew the Spring High would be the biggest event of his volleyball career, but he’d never quite imagined the magnitude of the whole production. 

The opening ceremony serves its purpose, getting the blood pumping through their veins as they head into their first match. There’s a fire in him, blazing through the kindling faster than it should, and he has to close his eyes and just breathe for a second before following Kai out onto the court. He can’t burn out now; this is only the beginning. They’re going to do this, step by step like they always do. 

There’s so much going on – the crowds, the cheering teams and families and fans flooding the stands and the other matches starting around them simultaneously – but Kuroo does his best to block it all out. There are so many people that Kuroo hasn’t caught a glimpse of anyone he knows yet; Lev reports that he spotted a player from Itachiyama while he was in the bathroom, but no sign of any of their friends. He wants to soak in the moment, but Nekoma isn’t here to make memories. They’re here to win, and to win, he needs to be focused. Behind him, he knows his team is thinking the same thing, and they enter the court, prepared to play to the bitter end. Nekoma is here on the national stage again, and this time, it isn’t going to end in heartbreak.

Before the game begins, Kenma stops by the bench to take a breath and stare out into a spot in the stands that Kuroo can’t pinpoint. But he gives his friend a moment, before tapping him on the arm, drawing his attention away from the audience.

“Ready?” Kuroo asks, and Kenma turns his gaze toward him, eyes wide and clear. They sustain eye contact for the stretch of a few seconds, the acknowledgement of years of dedication passing between them, and Kuroo already knows Kenma’s answer before he says it.

“Ready.” Nekoma’s brain is set to go.

Kuroo goes and shakes the opposing captain’s hand, and they flip for the starting play. Nekoma takes first receive, and he returns to his team for them to invoke their mantra before the whistle blows. 

The matchup isn’t advantageous for them – the first bracket, at least, isn’t seeded in their favor, pitting them against a scrappy team from Nagano, who plays like they’re used to crazy situations and desperate measures. Nekoma barely manages to take the first set, and that’s only thanks to Fukunaga’s beautifully controlled spike stealing them some desperately needed points. 

The second set they find their groove, Yamamoto especially, pressing forward with their offense, but the other team is tenacious, keeping up as well as they can by targeting the weak spots in Nekoma’s defenses. Nationals truly is on a whole different level, Kuroo thinks as another spike comes their way. But Nekoma has changed too, he remembers, as Lev uses those long arms of his to slam the ball back down on their opponent’s side. They wouldn’t be standing here if they couldn’t make it.

The set progresses on past 25 points, neither side giving in, but a slight slip in the other team’s timing gives Yaku a perfect receive; they take the chance to squeeze out their match point, with Kuroo himself sending the spike over. It’s only the first round, he reminds himself, but the team floods in around him anyway, screaming out their victory. It’s only the first round of nationals, but it’s the farthest they’ve ever gone, and Kuroo thinks it’ll be okay if he slows down this once to drink it all in.

One match down, one step closer.

The second of half of the first round matches start up, but their team is free until day two, so they weave their way through the stands to watch the game that’s playing on the court adjacent to theirs. Kuroo’s heard of both teams, but isn’t very familiar with either one, so it’s easier to watch. Down the side of the stadium, about two courts ahead, he notices a flash of gray hair, and grins as he gets to witness Bokuto slamming down a cross. The way the tournament is bracketed, Nekoma won’t be meeting Fukurodani again unless it’s in the finals, so he can wholeheartedly enjoy watching his friend do what he does best.

When the matches begin drawing to a close, Nekoma heads out to dinner. Nekomata-sensei had allowed them to go meet up with other players if they had so wished, but they’d agreed as a whole to stick together for their first night. This is the only time they’ll be here with this team, so they’re going to enjoy this while they can.

They turn in early after dinner since their second match begins first thing in the morning, but before Kuroo goes back to the room he’s sharing with Shibayama, he decides to take a shot at trying to locate his friends. They’ve been put up in a hotel right near the gymnasium; he knows Karasuno is somewhere in the same building, but he doesn’t know for sure where Fukurodani is, so he texts Bokuto while sitting at the edge of his bed. In the bathroom, Shibayama’s brushing his teeth.

to if found please return to akaashi: (8:38) **yo which hotel are you staying in**

(8:39) _same as u bro!!!!_  
(8:40) _u on 14th floor?_  
(8:40) _come down to 11_

Kuroo tells Shibayama to call him if he’s not back by nine, and he slips down the hallway in his sleeping shorts and shirt. The corridor is cool, and he regrets not grabbing his jacket before coming out, but the elevator arrives before he can turn back, so he jams the button for floor 11, and hops up and down, trying to warm up and hoping no one else comes in.

When he exits, there’s no one waiting for him and he groans, realizing he doesn’t know which room is Bokuto’s.

(8:42) **where are you?**

(8:42) _oh sry im in 1115_

He turns down the hallway until arriving at room 1115; he knocks gently, trying not to disturb anyone else. To his surprise, it’s not Bokuto who answers the door.

“Hey, nice work today! I heard the team you guys played was really strong this year,” Sawamura says, grinning at him. He’s also dressed to sleep, wearing the familiar t-shirt from training camp, and for a moment, Kuroo forgets where they are. “Oh, this is mine and Kageyama’s room,” he explains when Kuroo continues to stare at him in confusion. Kuroo does indeed see Kageyama lying on the far bed, already conked out, but looking like he’s in immense pain. Akaashi and Bokuto are perched on the other bed; the setter waves and Bokuto pinwheels his arms like a maniac.

“Kur-” Bokuto begins yelling, but Akaashi slaps his hand over his mouth before he wakes up the whole floor. 

“Welcome to the captains’ meeting, Kuroo-san,” he says calmly, as Sawamura lets Kuroo in. “Bokuto-san, remember what Sawamura-san said about waking his teammate up.” Bokuto nods obediently, his shower-softened hair loose and free from their signature spikes, and Akaashi removes his hand.

“Can you believe we’re all in the same hotel? We have to meet here ‘cause Konoha kicked me out when I said I wanted to bring Sawamura over to chat, and Akaashi didn’t trust me to go alone,” Bokuto explains in hushed tones, rocking back and forth with one of Sawamura’s pillows tucked under his arm.

“Makes sense. Is he okay?” Kuroo asks, watching Kageyama gnashing his teeth in his sleep.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He gets a little worked up before matches, but if we stay quiet he should be okay.” Sawamura sits backwards on the desk chair, so Kuroo sits on the free spot on the bed, crossing his legs to fit next to the other two.

“So what’s on the agenda for today? We discussing secret strategies? Gossiping about other teams?” Kuroo asks, picking a piece of lint of the bedspread.

“Nothing much, actually,” Sawamura shrugs. “We were just making plans to meet up tomorrow. It’s only one match for each of us, so there should be some free time after practice, maybe for dinner?”

“I think that would work,” Akaashi agrees.

“Why don’t I give you my number, so you can contact me tomorrow evening, and we’ll meet.” Sawamura catches the phone Akaashi tosses over, and begins putting his contact info in, but Bokuto puffs up, outraged.

“Wait, why wouldn’t you just text _me_?” Bokuto asks.

“I’ll text both of you,” Sawamura promises, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What about me?” Kuroo chimes in. “You’ll text me too, right?”

Sawamura just rolls his eyes as he returns Akaashi’s phone. “Of course, you dork. I’ll text all of you. Settle down.”

“Okay, just wanted to check. I mean, I figured you would, since I was your friend first-”

“Oh my god, we already talked about this! We were friends at the same time,” Bokuto hisses, pointing sharply at Kuroo.

“Wrong! I met Sawamura at least _weeks_ before you did,” Kuroo shoots back, batting him with a pillow.

“Are you two really having this argument _again_?” Akaashi asks flatly. “You’re going to wake up Kageyama-kun with your bickering. I’m sure Sawamura-san loves you both equally.”

“Yes, yes, you’re both my favorite, now calm down. You can both be my best friends,” Sawamura agrees, but at that Bokuto hesitates.

“Well, wait, I dunno about _best_ friends. I mean, I like you a lot, but Kuroo’s like...my _bro_ , you know? Like, best bro, even. Sorry, Sawamura,” Bokuto says, scratching at his long gray strands of hair.

Kuroo pipes up, “That’s true. Bo and I have been together for like our whole high school career. You can’t come between that, Sawamura.” They both nod at each other and back at him. Sawamura throws up his hands in exasperation.

“Never mind, I hate you both. Get out of my room.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be mad! You can be second best,” Bokuto wheedles, as Akaashi tugs him off the bed.

“Best or bust. I don’t settle for being second in anyone’s heart,” Sawamura retorts, shooing them out. “See you guys tomorrow. Good night, and good luck.” And he closes the door on them.

Kuroo pouts, about to try and break his way back in, but Akaashi says, “Kuroo-san, it’s 8:55. We should be getting back,” so he shuffles along behind him and Bokuto back to the elevator. They wave goodbye when he reaches his floor; Fukurodani is staying on the 18th.

He lets himself back into his room quietly, since Shibayama’s already tucked under the covers. Once he’s burrowed into his own bed as well, he tries to sleep, but he’s distracted by the way their conversation ended earlier. They'd been kidding around, but considering what Suga told him...he hopes Sawamura didn't actually take any of that to heart.

to too good for the skytree: (9:01) **hey i hope we didn’t hurt your feelings earlier**  
(9:02) **i’m sorry if we made you feel left out**

(9:03) _Nah, I was joking around with you guys._  
(9:04) _It’s probably my face that makes it hard to tell, haha_

(9:04) **oh okay cool**

(9:05) _I know how you two are_  
(9:05) _It’s not like anyone could ever replace Suga and Asahi for me_  
(9:06) _So I get it_

Kuroo relaxes into his pillows, glad that Sawamura understands, but then he thinks about the way the other boy looks at Sugawara, like he trusts him with his very life, and how casually he touches Azumane, no real sense of personal space between them. Sawamura’s a lot more open with him now, but it’s still not the same – there’s still some invisible boundary between them that Kuroo doesn’t know how to cross.

Suga says he's “special” to Sawamura, and while he can accept that maybe it's something he can't see for himself, it isn't enough. He wants to be more than special.

He wants to feel that absolute confidence that Sawamura places in his teammates. He wants to be able to joke around with him like they’ve known each other for years. He wants to see that elated expression that’s kept safe in a photo on his phone; he wants to be the cause for that incandescent smile.

He really, _really_ wants to know what it would be like to play on the same team together.

(9:06) _You guys sure like arguing about stupid stuff, though._

Kuroo smiles, thinking about all the idiotic things he and Bo have done over the years. If Sawamura really came to Tokyo, they’d rope him in for sure. If they went to the same university, he could break down that final barrier. But these are future dreams. Right now, there’s only one dream that matters.

(9:07) **that’s just how we roll**  
(9:08) **you’ll understand when you’re old enough**

(9:10) _I hope not!_  
(9:10) _Some things are better left a mystery._

(9:11) **wow mean**  
(9:11) **(╯°Д°)╯︵ /(.□ . ＼)**  
(9:12) **go to sleep you brat**  
(9:12) **good night and good luck**

(9:13) ☆＼(･ ᆺ ･)人(ﾉﾉ∀＾)ノ☆  
(9:14) _Good night._

\--

Their second match actually feels easier than the first, somehow. It takes longer, but Nekoma’s in top form this morning, and though they keep trading points without either side giving up, Kenma reads the other team weaknesses by the top of the second set. They emerge victorious after a well-fought game. Kuroo almost wishes the third round were on the same day, so they can ride the euphoria of victory through another win, but he thinks by tomorrow night, he’ll be glad they’ve had a chance to rest.

True to his word, Sawamura texts all three of them mid-afternoon, and they decide to meet at a restaurant a few blocks from the stadium. It isn’t an easy feat cramming three volleyball teams into one restaurant, but it’s a hopping little eatery, with quick service and plenty of flat cushions to cluster around the long, short tables. Kuroo’s team co-mingles freely with Karasuno and Fukurodani, with the adults over at a table of their own.

Hinata, seated between Inuoka and Lev and across from Kuroo, inhales another bite of rice, before asking, “So could I learn to do a personal time difference attack too? Like the one you used today?” 

“You want another special technique, shorty? Bokuto’s isn’t good enough for you?” Kuroo asks, jeering at the other captain. Bokuto shoots up straight in his seat, a noodle still hanging from his mouth.

“Whaaaat? But the feint is awesome, isn’t it?! Kuroo’s one-man time differential is cool too, but the feint gives you that feeling of ‘gotcha’!” Bokuto clenches his fists and slurps the loose noodle up, before pointing at his apprentice. “Besides, you’ve gotta practice that other move with your setter _a lot_ , before you can get it down. Kuroo, how long did it take for you and Kenma to perfect it?”

“Well, we were like nine, so it didn’t really work out so great until junior high, so like…four or five years?”

“See! It’ll take _five years_ to learn! You’d better get started now, Hinata!” Bokuto says, and Hinata somehow glows even brighter when he’s fired up.

Kuroo holds up a hand to stop him from running over to Kageyama and dashing off to practice. “I think it only took five years because we were puny and I learned the move from watching TV. And Kenma kept running away. That didn’t help.” He nudges Kenma in the side with his foot, and the blond almost falls into his bowl of soup, already beginning to nod off.

“So you’re saying I could learn to do it in one year?” Hinata asks. He leans forward, eyes wide and glazing over with ambition.

“If you put your mind to it, yeah, I’d say so,” Kuroo shrugs.

“If I practice with Kenma-san, I bet I could learn in half a year!” Lev yells, jostling Hinata, and they stick their tongues out at each other.

“Only if you pass all your receiving fundamentals first,” Yaku interjects as he walks by, and Lev deflates. Kuroo grins, and jerks his thumb at his libero.

“Yaku’s right. Blocking and defense comes first, Hinata. You don’t want to lose to Tsukki, now, do you?” Hinata manages to become even more invigorated by that; meanwhile, at the next table over, Kuroo sees Tsukishima twitch at the nickname.

But Tsukki is Kuroo’s protégé for sure, so instead of getting riled up, he smirks and begins taunting Hinata as well. “I’ve never seen a middle blocker who blocks so little. Then again, it’s hard to see Hinata at all, since he’s, well, you know. Short.”

“Tsukishiiiimaaaa!” Hinata roars, trying to crawl out from his spot to go to battle, but Inuoka and Lev hold him back, laughing.

“You Karasuno kids, always fighting. Your dad has no control over you. Shameful, really,” Kuroo sighs, directing his voice over to Tsukishima’s table, and right on cue, he gets a response.

“Are you talking shit about me again, Kuroo?” Sawamura snaps, nigh instantaneously, and Kuroo raises an eyebrow, staring him down as he drinks from his glass.

“Of course not, Sawamura-kun. They’re not your kids, remember? I’m talking shit about Suga.”

“Hey, you watch it, Kuroo Tetsurou,” Suga calls from where he’s sitting next to Akaashi. “I know your deepest, darkest secret. I know alllll about it.”

At that, Kuroo almost chokes on his water, and he whirls on Sawamura, who holds up his hands, shaking his head rapidly. A grain of rice falls off his cheek from the motion.

“I didn’t say anything! I promise on my honor,” Sawamura swears, staring back at Kuroo with those dark eyes of his, and Kuroo’s inclined to believe him with barely a second thought.

Lev and Bokuto perk up, looking between them with interest. “You know Kuroo-san’s secret?” the first year asks Sawamura excitedly. Even Akaashi looks like he’s listening in.

“No! I don’t!” Sawamura babbles at the same time Kuroo snaps, “Yes, but he’s not going to tell anyone, so don’t even try anything.”

Sawamura scrambles to get on the same page as him, correcting himself. “Yes, that, exactly. Not telling. I’m very loyal.”

Bokuto pouts, and crosses his arms. “Then what secret is Suga talking about?”

They all turn on the setter, who smiles back sweetly. “Ah, I think that’s for me to know, and the rest of you to ponder.” He winks at Kuroo, and then returns to his conversation with Akaashi, as if he hasn’t just thrown them all into a frenzy.

“This is what happens, Kuro,” Kenma says suddenly. Kuroo wasn’t even aware he was listening to the whole hullaballoo. “If you keep provoking people, they’ll bite back.”

“Who says that isn't exactly the response I'm looking for?” Kuroo parries, flipping a loose loop of Kenma’s hair back down flat.

Kenma blinks owlishly back at him, then at his unfinished dinner. Taking his chopsticks, he stirs the rice around absently, telling him, “Don't get too clever for your own good, or you'll find yourself in trouble.” He soon loses interest in playing with his food, pulling his phone out instead.

“But if I get in trouble, you're the one I'm gonna depend on to bail me out, so I'm not too worried.”

“Ask Bokuto instead.”

Bokuto bursts into laughter. “If Kuroo’s in trouble, I'm pretty sure I'll be right there with him. It's up to you to save us, Kenma!! I bet if you tell Akaashi, he'd help too. Or Sawamura! That's a strong team.”

A wrinkle develops between Kenma’s eyebrows, and he rests his elbows up on the table, still playing on his phone. “That's way too much bother. I'd rather just be in trouble with you.”

“Then I'll save you, Kenma!” Hinata’s grin is like a solar flare; Kuroo almost can't stand to look directly at it. Kenma doesn’t have the same issue. He returns Hinata’s exuberance with a tiny smile of his own.

“Thanks, Shouyou.” There’s no hesitation at all when Kenma speaks to Hinata, just a gentle readiness that complements Hinata’s zeal. _This_ , Kuroo realizes, is a perfect example of people who are special to each other. Hinata, who wants to draw Kenma out, and Kenma, who can’t help but to respond – both of them always happy to even be near one another again. It's embarrassing to admit, but he's not certain he and Sawamura are anywhere close to having this sort of friendship.

Bokuto begins regaling the underclassmen with his greatest escapades at nationals, and Kuroo takes the chance to run off to the bathroom. When he returns, he catches sight of Sawamura over at the coaches’ table, saying something to his faculty advisor. He hovers around the windows until Sawamura looks like he’s done, then sidles up to the other captain before he heads back to the table.

“You guys leaving?”

“Not quite yet. I was just checking in about our schedule. What about you?”

“Yaku and Fukunaga are far from done chowing down, so I’ll think we’ll be here a while longer.” They remain there for another minute in comfortable silence, near the front windows, just watching their teams interact and decompress from the excitement of the last two days.

“Kuroo,” Sawamura says, brushing his hand against Kuroo’s shoulder to recapture his attention.

For some reason he can’t explain, Kuroo finds his tongue tied in knots when he looks down at his companion. The restaurant isn’t well lit, long shadows being cast over each of them, and with the shimmering backdrop of the evening Tokyo skyline behind him, Sawamura looks inscrutable from this angle. Darker, closer – some mix of the person Kuroo knows, and the person he doesn’t yet have the right to know. But here and now, it feels like he might be allowed in past that final threshold. Their surroundings aren’t quiet by any means, but the space around them is suddenly intimate, as if time itself is coursing around them at a slower rate.

He should say something. He should tell Sawamura he hopes they'll see each other again in college, or that he can't wait to see how Karasuno’s training has paid off. Or how glad he is that they were fated to be rivals, since it gave them a chance to meet. There are so many things to be said, but none of the right words are coming to mind. This is rarely a problem for Kuroo, who's glib by nature, so of course it only happens when he wants to be seriously eloquent for once.

It doesn't matter though, since Sawamura already has something on his mind.

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you I would never give away any secret you've told me, no matter how big or small. I wouldn't betray you like that,” he says, his tone solemn. His hand is at Kuroo’s elbow again, resting in the crook of his arm, and he's reminded of that night at training camp, a pulse of heat sinking in through the skin with every heartbeat. It radiates into his bloodstream, and he can feel the warmth sneaking up the back of his neck.

Kuroo has the suspicion that when he speaks he's going to seem like a maniac, because Sawamura’s hand is doing weird things to his brain, but his voice comes out sounding surprisingly collected. “Don't worry, I realized the second I looked at you. I know you, of all people, wouldn't do that. If I can't trust you, who can I trust, right?”

Maybe it's a trick of the light, but before Sawamura ducks his head shyly in recognition of Kuroo’s words, Kuroo spots a tinge of rose on his cheeks. “That’s- I’m glad to hear that. Thanks for believing me.”

“Sure, dude, it’s no big deal. Sugawara, though. You were right about him,” Kuroo says, narrowing his eyes at the boy in question, who’s happily chatting away with Akaashi and Sarukui. 

“Don't mind Suga, he's just messing with you,” Sawamura begins reassuring him, until something else occurs to him. “Unless he really does know a secret of yours? I mean, no, you can trust him not to tell either, I just don't know what you two talk about, so, uh, yeah. Suga’s great. You should talk to him more, or not, whatever. It's all good.” He frowns at the end of his babbling, having lost track of whatever he was trying to say originally, and Kuroo laughs at him.

“No worries, I trust your vice just fine, but he was definitely fucking with me earlier. He’s a little too dangerous to just carelessly hand blackmail material to. Speaking of which, _you_ still owe me a secret.” Kuroo had forgotten about it until now, the position they’re standing in evoking the memory of that summer night.

When Sawamura is surprised his pupils grow large, drowning the earthy brown of his irises out with black. “Oh! Crap, I totally forgot - let me see. I’ve probably done something stupid recently...” He removes his hand and places it at his hip as he thinks, and Kuroo is surprised to feel a pang of regret at the loss of contact.

Sawamura looks like he’s really racking his brain, so Kuroo puts him out of his suffering. “It's okay, you don't have to come up with something now. I'll charge you interest though. The longer it takes, the bigger the secret has to be, so don't dawdle too long!”

“This sounds like extortion.”

“Excuse me, who cheated first? I’m the wronged party here, pal. You brought this upon yourself with your dirty, dirty lies.”

“Okay, I concede that point. I did start it,” Sawamura laughs, leaning back against the wall. “Be patient; I’ll pay up when I get something really good. Something you can hold over me forever.”

Kuroo clicks his tongue, thinking it over. “Alright, but I’m putting a five year time limit on this. That’s more than enough time.”

“Agreed.” Sawamura holds out his hand, and Kuroo reaches to shake with him. He doesn’t know who starts it, but they each wind up with both hands clasped, squeezing as hard as possible, just like after their first match. Perhaps it’s instinct, even after all this time. His bones start to creak, but he only smiles brighter instead of surrendering. From the twitch in his eye, Sawamura’s probably in pain too, but his sparkle doesn’t lessen.

“Are you two making some sort of demonic pact?” On his way to Nekomata-sensei’s table with Kai, Yaku pauses in front of them, eying their handshake with suspicion.

“If it’s a display of strength, you both look evenly matched,” Kai tells them cheerfully. “This isn’t the best way to test your skills.”

“Don’t you two worry about it. Nothing but friendly captain business going on here,” Kuroo grits out as Sawamura clamps down even harder.

“Kuroo and I were just settling an agreement,” Sawamura says, glowing at them with so much force Kuroo thinks he might pass out from the effort.

“Alright,” Yaku says skeptically. “When you’re done holding hands, come back to the table. We’re probably leaving soon.” He and Kai continue on their way, and in tacit understanding, the other two release their hands simultaneously, collapsing against the wall.

“You should work on your handshake,” Sawamura says, shaking his arms like jelly. “Why are your hands so soft and smooth? Do you even play sports? Do you know what volleyball is? Are you sure you didn’t get lost one day on your way to drama club and got too embarrassed to tell anyone you don’t know your way out of the gym?”

“Big words coming from someone so petite and cute,” Kuroo scoffs. He tries to lift his arm and pinch Sawamura’s cheek, but his hands are so useless he just kind of swats his face. “With a baby grip like that, how can you even keep a hold of the ball? Do your parents know your poor, delicate face lost a tooth from playing such a tough, scary game? You’re a team mascot who accidentally got promoted to captain, aren’t you?”

Sawamura does his best to glare, but in the end he cracks a grin when Kuroo goes in for a second attempt to pinch him. “C’mon then, drama club, let’s head back. They’re finishing up without us.”

Kuroo trails after him, observing as Kenma says something that makes Hinata laugh. Shibayama listening to Nishinoya’s story in awe and Yamamoto’s sticking by Tanaka. It’s like training camp again, except with higher stakes, and Kuroo remembers that the next time their teams can hang out like this won’t be until next summer, and by then, he and the other third years will be gone. This is their last hurrah, his final five days left with his volleyball club, and two of them are already through.

It’s too soon. He doesn’t want to say goodbye yet. Just give me a little longer, as much time as possible, he asks the universe, as Sawamura turns back around to check on him. 

“You okay?” Sawamura asks, and Kuroo nods, hurrying to catch up to him. Sawamura would understand, but he doesn’t want to spread his melancholy. Today is a day of celebration, before they re-enter the fray tomorrow morning.

“I’m good. Let’s go.”

Enjoy every second you have left, he reminds himself. Make every moment count, so you don’t come away with any regrets. Only four more matches to go.


	4. Chapter 4

When their third round match ends in a win, Kuroo almost can’t believe it.

He’s watching from the bench, substituted out for Inuoka after taking a bad hit to the hand in the second set, and he’s been in a constant state of tension ever since. Inuoka’s only a first year, but he’s good, and by the time he’s a senior, he’ll be great. But they’re three matches into nationals, going against better and better teams each time, and Kuroo knows how it feels to play a game when your captain’s benched. Even the most well-coordinated team will find themselves on shaky ground, and even though Kuroo knows they can do it, it doesn’t stop him from wishing his stupid fingers would heal faster.

But his team - his brilliant, relentless team, constant in their determination and flexible no matter the circumstance - they do what they need to do. They show everyone that Tokyo’s cats are still stronger than ever, even without their pillar, and they take that final set five points ahead of their opponent. Nekoma will participate in the Spring High Quarterfinals.

“Kuro, are you crying?” Kenma asks, after their team hug breaks apart, peering up at him, and Kuroo laughs, swiping away the stray droplets from the corner of his eyes.

“No, I’m just sweating from my eyes. Watching you guys out there was really stressing me out, but you did an excellent job.”

“Don’t worry, captain, we weren’t going to let your last match be one you spent watching from the sidelines,” Kai says with a grin, patting Kuroo on the back.

“We’re not going to give you any reason to cry again until they hand us the championship trophy,” Yakkun agrees, and that’s that.

“Fair enough. No more gross eye sweat until then,” Kuroo promises, and he follows them off the court, but Nekomata-sensei sends him to the medical station to get his hand checked out again before he joins the rest of the team to rest up before their next match.

He jogs over, undoing the tape on his hands, and almost trips in a puddle on the ground when he sees Sawamura sitting on a bed, holding ice to his face.

“Shit, Sawamura, again? You do know you’re not supposed to receive the ball with your face, don’t you?” he calls, and the other captain looks up at him, his brown eyes wide.

“Kuroo! What happened to you? How’s your match going? You guys are still in, right?”

“Actually, we just clinched it,” Kuroo says, plopping down next to him. “Going to the quarterfinals, baby! Though I wasn’t much use. Made a bad block and screwed up my fingers a little bit. The team took care of the rest without me.”

“Wow, that’s great! Hope they can get your hand taped up so you’re ready to go later.” Sawamura beams at him, and Kuroo notices a bead of blood pearling up on his lip.

“Yeah, but are you okay? Your mouth’s a little messed up there.” Kuroo gestures at his lip. Sawamura grabs a tissue from the table and dabs at the blood with a sigh.

“I was just dumb and accidentally bit my lip when I crashed into a chair. I made the receive, but kind of smacked myself into everything on the sidelines,” he says sheepishly. “No lost teeth this time, though.”

“Thank god. A face like yours can’t really afford to take anymore hits like this.”

“Thanks. That doesn’t hurt my pride at all.”

“Maybe I meant it in a nice way,” Kuroo says, letting the nurse who comes over examine his hand.

“I find that hard to believe,” Sawamura says. He takes the ice off his face to readjust the towel wrapped around it, and Kuroo stares at the purple bruise spreading over his cheek.

“Wait, how did your match go? Is it still happening? You seem really calm, so…” he trails off.

Even with the bruise, Sawamura is startlingly bright when he grins at Kuroo. “Our next match is at three today. Come cheer us on if you finish early.”

It takes Kuroo a second to register what that means, and then he jolts up when he does, almost knocking over the nurse who was about to start taping his hand. He lets her finish her handiwork before turning back to Sawamura. With the way the brackets are set up, if Nekoma and Karasuno both advance to the semifinals...

“Shit. This is it. Once we get through today-”

“Our battle for the trash heap will be here. Tomorrow,” Sawamura promises, holding his hand out, and Kuroo clasps it to shake, properly this time. The next time they shake hands, it’s going to be from across the net.

“Tomorrow. You and me, our teams, our coaches. Everything we’ve been fighting for; we’re finally going to make it happen.” Kuroo almost forgets about the throbbing in his knuckles, he’s so overcome with the immediacy for what’s upon them. Tomorrow, everything comes to a head. Fate has finally brought them back together.

“Don’t go getting sentimental on me now, Kuroo,” Sawamura says with a lopsided smile, his lip still swollen. “I’m going to be _furious_ if I find out you guys have lost in the quarterfinals because you’re getting teary eyed right now.”

“Ha! That won’t be an issue, I swear. I already promised the team. No tears until we’re holding the Spring Cup in our hands.”

“Good plan. After we win, I’ll let it you have a turn touching the trophy.” Karasuno’s Shimizu appears in the doorway, and begins trotting over, so Sawamura punches Kuroo playfully in the thigh and hops off the medical bed. “Shimizu’s coming for me. Catch you later tonight after we win?”

“You bet. Give ‘em hell, Sawamura.”

“You do the same.” He salutes as he jogs over to meet his manager, slowing down to walk beside her down the corridor. Kuroo watches him leave, realizing with a sudden clarity that this must be what Karasuno sees when they follow Sawamura into a match. There’s a certain reassurance in his form that makes Kuroo think, _ah, so this is what it means to be a captain_.

The crows have grown by leaps and bounds since Kuroo’s played them last, but he caught a glimpse of their second round match, and he knows they’re still prone to fall into disorder when the opponent presses them to the limit. Still, there’s a cohesion to their style now, like a tornado instead of a firestorm, especially now that Tsukki is overseeing their frontline defense. With their arsenal of untamed, unexpected strikes, their sturdy defense, and absolute pragmatism under a captain that understands each of his teammates individually, Karasuno might soon transform into a juggernaut. If Kuroo were following Sawamura’s back into battle, he’d believe it too, that they could take the championship.

That only boosts his drive to crush them on the way to the top. This is Nekoma’s year, and he, Yaku, and Kai will finally be able to say they made their goal into reality.

When the nurse returns to give him some painkillers, he downs the medication with a full glass of water, and heads back out to find his team. Three matches down, three more to go. They’re going to take that semifinals spot today, and finally bring Nekomata-sensei’s dream back to nationals.

\--

The painkillers do their job well enough, but when Kuroo’s doing his best just to stay afloat against the overwhelming spikes the other team’s ace keeps battering them with, it’s not like he can avoid taking hits to his hand. His busted hand has about as much feeling in it as a souffle, but if it blocks the ball, he can’t complain. The quarterfinals match is brutal, and by the middle of the third set, his thighs are on the verge of bursting. Everyone else is in similar shape; even Kenma’s started to look ragged, as his face remains emphatically irritated.

Yamamoto, with the stalwart strength Kuroo knows he has underneath all his bluster, keeps racking up the points, even while pitted against an objectively better ace. With Yaku shoring up the defense, and the others keeping their teamwork in constant flow, they hold up against the opponent’s attack. Kenma finds the hole in their armor soon enough: their offense is vicious, but the defense becomes frazzled against feints and synchronized attacks, so eventually Nekoma runs them down enough to clinch a break, then the match.

Afterwards, all they want to do to is collapse into bed, but they need to eat, so they head over to a small restaurant that’s hidden away, where they can enjoy dinner slowly. Karasuno straggles in twenty minutes later, looking beat to all hell, but happy. Victorious.

Coach Naoi jumps up to greet them, and a waitress ushers the other team to the table next to theirs. Kuroo cranes his neck to catch Sawamura’s gaze; the other captain, dazed, still bruised, and blinking blearily at the light fixtures, grins at him and nods once, decisively. Kuroo quirks a smile back, and that’s enough acknowledgement for now. Karasuno collapses into place and begins muttering among themselves as they order.

Kuroo’s sitting at the end of Nekoma’s table, next to Fukunaga, who’s shoveling food into his mouth while half asleep. At the corner of Karasuno’s table closest to Kuroo sits Azumane, whose hair has fallen free of its usual tie, framing his tired face so that he looks something between a strung out rock star and an ex-con who’s just dug his way out of prison.

“Hey,” Kuroo says to him, almost startling him into dropping his chopsticks. “Looks like you had a hard time, but you did it. The team you guys just beat was one of the top four last year - absolutely brutal defense - so nice work breaking through.”

Azumane grins back at him, too tired to be nervous at this point. “Thanks, but I can’t take much credit. The whole team went all out today.”

Kuroo tuts reproachfully at him. “No selling yourself short, Azumane. You know you’re nationally recognized as your team’s ace now, right?”

Azumane pales a bit, but nods gamely, acknowledging the truth behind his words. Sawamura’s spoken to him enough times about his team for Kuroo to know that their ace has a strong spirit but wavering confidence, but it looks like he's starting to overcome that shakiness.

“Leave our precious ace alone, Kuroo,” comes Sugawara’s dry voice from across the table a few seats down. Kuroo gives him his best wide-eyed look, placing a hand on his chest in innocent confusion.

“How could you say that?” he asks, pouting. He rests his elbow against the corner of Azumane’s table, and leans in. “You're not scared of me, right?”

Azumane considers him for a moment, caught between being amused and feeling put on the spot. “You're scary in the same way Daichi is,” he admits, “but you're nowhere near as terrifying as Suga when he sets his mind to something.”

“Excuse me?” the setter squawks.

“Shoulda figured. It's always the nice ones,” Kuroo sighs, waving at Kai, who smiles beatifically back while piling more and more tempura in Kenma’s bowl. “Or the quiet ones,” Kuroo continues. This time he points at Fukunaga, who pauses in the middle of eating to hold his finger to his lips in a “shhh, it's a secret” gesture.

Azumane laughs as his own table begins getting louder. “I guess I know who to keep my eye on tomorrow.”

They wrap up dinner slightly before Karasuno, but stay a bit longer to finish talking, both teams humming with anticipation of their upcoming match. There's a certain tension now that their rivalry is coming to a boiling point, but it's friendly, despite the weight of tomorrow's game. Kuroo doesn't have a chance to catch up with Sawamura beyond a few words before leaving the restaurant, as the other captain was at the far end of his table, but they share a passing glance as Nekoma exits, and there's something in Sawamura’s face - an uncertainty beneath the purpose and the fire - that catches in Kuroo’s consciousness and sticks with him as he returns to his hotel room that night.

Shibayama’s out of the room, having gone with Lev to play cards with the other underclassmen. They don't have to turn in for another hour or two, since tomorrow’s semifinals match isn't until 1, so Kuroo is left alone in his room after he showers, too awake now to go to bed early. He texts Bokuto, but Fukurodani must still be out on the town because he receives a string of gibberish back, probably from Bo’s pocket. Putting his phone aside, he flops back on his clean, still made bed and lets his eyes shut, trying to see if sleep can overcome his nerves, but like the flickering of a lantern flame comes the memory of that look in Sawamura’s eyes. That tiny falter in an otherwise unassailable constancy that betrays just how much pressure is hanging over the both of them now.

Kuroo rolls over in bed, plowing over his two pillows until he drops off the edge onto the ground in a crouch. There's too much to be said about tomorrow that he can't even find words for, but he doesn't think he can sleep tonight until he sees Sawamura one more time. No one else gets it quite like he does.

So he leaves his room, dropping a word with Yaku and Kenma that he'll be downstairs for a little bit, then he heads to the eleventh floor. He turns down the corridor toward room 1115, but pauses a few yards down when he spots Sawamura outside another room, talking in hushed tones with his pinch server and Tsukki. After a moment, Tanaka pokes his head out the door and says something to the others; Sawamura claps both Yamaguchi and Tsukishima on the arm and they enter Tanaka’s room after nodding back. With his business concluded there, Sawamura makes his way to the next room but stops when he notices Kuroo lurking at the end of the hallway.

Even under the muted tones of the dim hotel lights glancing off the cream colored walls, Kuroo can see that Sawamura’s expression brightens when their eyes meet, the almost stoic set to his face lightening, and the corners of his eyes crinkling as a hint of a smile reaches his lips. He looks pleased to see Kuroo, and this isn’t _new_ , not precisely, but it's newly evident. There's a hiccup of surprise that seizes Kuroo’s stomach and with sudden clarity he remembers Sugawara’s words.

_You might not see it, but you're special to our captain, Kuroo._

Is this what Suga means?

“What are you doing sneaking around down here? Trying to eavesdrop on our secret plans?” Sawamura calls as he beckons Kuroo over, one hand on his hip as he taps his foot in mock suspicion.

“Oh, Sawamura, you know I'm smart enough not to cause trouble in crow territory. I came down to see you! Aren't you happy?” he croons like the annoyance that he is.

“So happy,” Sawamura says, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't push Kuroo out of the way when he slinks into his space. They continue down the hall, but instead of returning to his room, Sawamura sinks down into the plush blue carpet outside and settles there, so Kuroo joins him, sitting cross-legged and close enough to almost jab his knee into Sawamura’s thigh.

“You get locked out?” he asks Sawamura, who runs his fingers through the carpet, one arm resting between Kuroo’s back and the wall.

“No, nothing like that. Yachi and Asahi are doing some meditation thing in there with the oddball duo right now, so I was making the rounds until you came along.”

“No need to stop on my account. Take me with you: I’ll be your muscle. Scare any wayward kouhai back into their beds.” He shakes his fist to demonstrate, rolling up his sleeve so Sawamura can see his biceps in action.

An ungainly snort escapes from Sawamura as he pinches at Kuroo’s exposed skin. “No thanks. Who would ever hire a nerd like you? You'd make a terrible henchman.”

Kuroo gasps, throwing himself against the wall in shock. “I cannot _believe_ I ever thought you were a nice boy. What an awful, awful miscalculation that was. You are a mean-spirited, foul-mouthed, flat-footed-”

Sawamura leans back as well, watching him patiently with a wry curve to his mouth. “When you're done insulting me, let me know.”

“-ill-fated, kale-eating, squirrel-stealing, zamboni-shaped-”

“Still not done, huh?”

“-pirate-plagiarizing, crab-clawed _ingrate_ ,” Kuroo hisses, his metaphorical tail twitching.

“Can't argue with that, I suppose.” Sawamura shrugs graciously. “But if you had let me finish talking before putting me through the wringer, you'd know the reason you can't be a henchman is because you're much more suited to being the ringleader. A troublemaker like you couldn't stand not to be calling the shots.”

Kuroo, still readying himself to pounce, deflates when he finally understands what he's being told. “Oh. That sounds almost like a compliment, actually.” Sawamura grins at his sudden loss of fervor and subsequent bemusement.

“Who's the ingrate now? I'm always complimenting you. I thought we were _friends_ , Kuroo, yet here you go calling me a donut-faced, trumpet-crushing, fish-licking-”

“I said none of those things! Again with your lies!” In Kuroo’s attempt to slap his hand over Sawamura’s mouth, he winds up just knocking the other boy over, but Sawamura’s hand reflexively whips out to grab him by the shoulder, and he gets yanked face first into the ground while Sawamura rolls over like a flipped turtle. They both groan in defeat.

“Okay, truce, truce! I'll play nice if you will,” Sawamura says as he sits back up, his hair now mussed up from the carpet static. His cheeks are slightly reddened under the blotchy bruise and Kuroo notices that his lip is still swollen from this morning. “Don't want us to get ejected from the hotel the day before our big match,” he continues, his sharkish grin turning more giddy.

Kuroo pushes his own cowlick out of his face as he unfolds from the ground, remembering why he came down here in the first place. Tomorrow. “It's really happening. We did it.” He can't quite suppress the wonder in his voice, but Sawamura nods.

“We did.”

Kuroo recognizes the satisfaction in Sawamura’s eyes as the same as his own, although it's still tinged with the same tenuous color from earlier. Still uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Are you doing alright?” he asks, and then he slaps himself in the forehead for his stupidity. “Sorry, weird question. I mean, it's just, you look kinda…”

“Kind of like I'm in over my head?” Sawamura asks with a laugh. “I can't hide it from you, can I?”

“You're not though,” Kuroo protests. “No one’s more ready for this than we are.”

“You're right, and deep down I know it, but I think…” He trails off, straightening out his legs and staring down at his knees.

“One year ago, I was trying to figure out how the hell I was gonna bring a team with no coach, no ace, and no libero to nationals. It's not like I was doing it alone: we had Takeda-sensei, and of course I had Suga and Tanaka and the other second years, but sometimes, it all seemed like so much, you know? And now we're here. And I didn't let myself think about it until now - I didn't want to psyche myself out, but this isn’t a dream. We made it to nationals.”

“Not just nationals. We made it to the semifinals,” Kuroo reminds him gently, and when he looks at Kuroo again there's no uncertainty anymore, just a settled sense of peace.

“You're right. It's hard to forget the past, but in the end we made it. We're here, and we're gonna win the whole damn thing.” He sounds so sure that for a second Kuroo falls under his spell, until he recollects his senses.

“Whoa, slow down there, don't you go thinking Nekoma’s gonna lose to you guys, no matter how much you’ve improved.”

Sawamura laughs again, shifting so he's sitting next to Kuroo again, only a few inches away. “I guess we'll see when we settle it once and for all.”

“Well, if you lose to us, there's always next year.”

“Shut up, you know that won't work,” is the response he gets as Sawamura jabs him. Kuroo tries to fend off his oddly sharp fingers, but Sawamura is quick, and Kuroo gets stuck in the side several times before he can capture Sawamura’s hands and hold him still.

Now he's left gripping the other boy’s broad, calloused hands, trying not to think about how warm Sawamura always is as he formulates a counter-attack, but when he notices the softness of those brown eyes and the sly cut of that smile, he can't resist the urge to say something, to make him aware of just what he means in turn to Kuroo.

“Hey, I just want you to know,” Kuroo starts, faltering for a moment while his wits take unexpectedly long to return to him. “Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever happens in the finals - I just want to tell you that I'm glad it was you and your team. There's no one I'd rather play than Karasuno right now. There's no other team I'd rather have for our rival.”

_There's no one else I want to be sharing this moment with._

Perhaps it should be weird to be leaving himself so vulnerable and confessing all these heartfelt feelings while crushing Sawamura’s fingers in his grasp, but maybe Sawamura has grown used to other people’s dramatics, because he doesn’t retreat, or avert his eyes.

“Me too. We’ve played against so many unforgettable teams, but we all know Nekoma’s our destined rival. It feels like I've been waiting forever to meet you on the court, and our day is finally here.” He lowers his arms, so Kuroo releases him, but instead of drawing away, he holds out his pinky, laughing quietly when Kuroo links his own finger with his despite his confusion. “We never made our other promise official. Pinky swear: whoever wins tomorrow is going to win it all.”

Kuroo remembers it now, from the night Nekoma defeated Nohebi for the Tokyo rep spot. Karasuno or Nekoma: one of them will be crowned champion this year. “Promise. Best or bust, right?”

“Right.”

Sawamura lets Kuroo’s pinky go and they both fall quiet at the thought of what's to come. It's easy, being in Sawamura’s company, as if they've been friends their whole lives, and it's moments like these when Kuroo can’t help but wonder what it would have been like if they'd only met a little sooner. As fresh-faced first years, maybe, if only Nekoma and Karasuno had kept their connection.

They both flinch in surprise when a high-pitched wail comes from behind the hotel room door, followed by the unmistakable sound of Hinata and Kageyama starting a shouting match. With a groan, Sawamura hangs his head, and begins to stand up when another door across the hall slams open and Nishinoya and Kinoshita tear out, headed toward the source of the noise.

“Oh, hey, Daichi-san! Kuroo-san!” the libero says with a jaunty wave as they pass by.

“Wait, Noya-” Sawamura starts, but the door swings open and his second years vanish in before he can stop them, and he sighs. “I better go see what they’re up to,” he tells Kuroo regretfully.

“My offer still stands. Hired muscle. Think about it,” Kuroo says, flexing again. Sawamura coughs to pretend he isn’t laughing, and pulls Kuroo to his feet.

“I'm not that desperate yet. Probably never will be.”

“Rude,” Kuroo tsks. As Sawamura fishes around his shorts pockets for his key card, Kuroo gets an idea. “Actually, would you mind letting me borrow Hinata? I think Kenma wanted to see him. And it'd probably cut your noise problem in half.”

“Oh, sure, I'll ask him. You probably don't want to see this,” Sawamura says, looking apologetic. “Be back in a sec.”

He slips inside, the clamoring hitting an all time high as he starts barking at them to quiet the hell down. Kuroo snickers silently to himself at the hypocrisy before Hinata comes flying out the doorway a moment later. He lands neatly on his feet like a gymnast, whirling toward Kuroo.

“Kuroo-san! Captain said Kenma wanted to see me?” He's bouncing on his heels, and Kuroo can already tell this meeting is going to completely drain his setter of energy. Still, it's what Kenma would want, even if he doesn't voice it overtly, so he jerks his thumb in the direction of the elevator.

“Yeah, I'll take you up to our floor. C’mon, shorty.”

“Shorty?!” Hinata croaks out. Kuroo can tell he's already getting riled up.

“Didn't we talk about your provocation problem? Don't tease Hinata,” Sawamura warns, sticking his head back out the now noticeably quieter room.

“Alright, papa crow, no need to worry about your hatchling. I'll return him safe and sound,” Kuroo jeers as they begin walking away.

In response, Sawamura flips him off, so he blows a kiss back. Utterly unimpressed, Sawamura holds up his hands, fingers splayed apart. “Send him back by ten, or I'll have your hide, Kuroo.”

“Don't worry, captain, I'll be back in time,” Hinata swears, and Kuroo points to him.

“Look, nothing to fret about! See you tomorrow!” And they jog off before Sawamura can respond.

As expected, by the time Hinata leaves Nekoma that night, Kenma has been exhausted by his boundless energy combined with Inuoka’s and Lev’s, and when Kuroo boots him into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he’s too tired to even bring his handheld game with him. After sending Kenma off to the room he shares with Yaku, Kuroo goes door to door to check on his team before retiring to his own room for the night. It's a bit early still, but they need to be well rested for the upcoming game. He returns to find that he’s gotten a text from Sawamura while away.

from too good for the skytree: (10:07) _Hey, you miscreant_  
(10:07) _Good luck tomorrow._

(10:21) **aww thanks babe**  
(10:21) **same to you**  
(10:22) **don't break our promise**  


(10:23) _Wouldn't dream of it!_  
(10:23) _Sleep well._  


(10:25) **(=^－ｪ－^=) Z z z...**  
(10:26) **you too**  
(10:26) **night sawamura**

\--

On the other side of the door the stadium has already come alive, with all the sounds that precede a match in full-swing. Fukurodani’s match is still going, having started an hour earlier, but Kuroo won't have any way of knowing who'll be headed to the finals until after his own match is finished. He can't think ahead now though, when he's about to start one of the most important games of his high school life.

They're waiting to be called into the court, and next to him, Kuroo can feel Kenma stirring with unusual energy, his eyes glowing bright. He must be worked up by the thought of facing off against Hinata. Kuroo doesn't feel any more or less stressed than usual, but he knows today is special, and it's leaving him restless. He doesn't realize that he's pacing until his coach comes up and places a steadying hand on his arm; he almost jumps until he realizes who it is.

“Kuroo,” Nekomata-sensei says. “Listen to me for a moment.” He's smiling as usual, serene and unruffled by the bustle of his team.

“Of course,” Kuroo says immediately. He ceases pacing and turns to face his coach properly.

“I know you've been looking forward to this match. We all have, but I don't want you to forget why you're here. This “Battle for the Trash Heap” is important, but don't let an old man’s dream distract you from your goal. This is just another game,” Nekomata-sensei says, projecting a wave of calmness at him.

“Another step on our way to the top,” Kuroo says, and his coach beams.

“Exactly. So have fun out there! Do what you always do.”

Kuroo takes a long breath and nods as he feels the jitters leaving him. “Got it, coach.” Satisfied with his response, Nekomata-senses leaves him to go speak to Lev and Yamamoto. Kenma looks up as someone announces they'll be entering in five minutes. Their gazes meet and nothing needs to be said for them to reach an understanding. They're going to go out there and do what they do best. When the signal sounds, Kuroo exits, his team right in step behind him.

There's no time to drink in the sight of the crowds as they step onto the court; they jump right into warming up as Karasuno enters. It's a little intimidating, seeing the cloud of black and orange, finally from across an official net, on an official court. But then Kuroo catches sight of Sawamura, each of them giving the slightest nod of acknowledgment, and he remembers their promise.

This is it. The fated battle, the final step before the final hurdle. Whoever wins here will go on to take it all.

They commence their court practice, sharing glances with Karasuno when they switch sides, and then it's time to begin. The ref blows his whistle, so Kuroo strides forward with his team and meets Sawamura halfway, firmly shaking his hand.

“I’m looking forward to our match today,” Sawamura says, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he echoes the first words they've ever spoken to each other. His smile is real this time around, and Kuroo grins back.

“So am I.”

Nekoma wins the coin toss and chooses to serve first. Kuroo returns to his team to engage in one last huddle before the starting lineup takes their positions. He starts up the familiar, old mantra, letting himself fall into the pre-game rhythm they've come to know so well.

“We’re like the blood in our veins. Flow smoothly, without stopping - circulate oxygen so the brain can function.”

This time, when they separate from the huddle, Kenma doesn't scoff. He doesn’t even look particularly sour, too busy focusing in on Hinata and Kageyama across the net, and Kuroo knows that today is momentous for more than one reason. With a light tap he regains Kenma’s attention, handing him the ball for the starting serve.

It's time to begin.

\--

** Spring High Semifinals **

Nekoma High School (Tokyo) vs. Karasuno High School (Miyagi)

 **27** \- 25  
31 - **33**  
26 - **28**  
**30** \- 28  
18 - **20**  


Karasuno advances to the finals.

\--

So this is how it ends.

Kuroo closes his eyes as the applause thunders on, the glare of light glancing off the ball as it shot to the ground still seared on his retinas. Time stops still around him for a moment as he breathes in the last seconds of his final game. Overhead, they announce the winner. Karasuno takes the set and the match.

_One more game. One last time. Don't let it end here._

But wishing doesn't keep the ball in the air. Wishing doesn't stop spikes or gain points. Wishing doesn't make them better than the other team.

They played well, as best as Kuroo could have ever hoped, but it wasn’t enough. Even with Yaku’s flawless receives and Lev’s rapidly improving blocks, even under Kenma’s analytical direction, it wasn't enough. Yamamoto’s spikes were nothing short of excellent, Kai and Fukunaga played a top-notch game, Inuoka and Shibayama helped clinch countless points, and they still lost.

Across the net, Karasuno has descended into raucous celebration, and even as tears begin to prick at his eyes, Kuroo can't help but let out a laugh. This isn't the same Karasuno they met last May.

This is a championship team.

His legs are barely working, but he stumbles forward, lining up with his team to thank their opponents. The last team he'll ever play in high school. They bow and say their thank yous, and oh, it's bitter to see their upstart rivals come away victorious, but it's not like he can resent them when he knows how hard they've pushed themselves to reach this point. Both teams step forward, and Kuroo finds himself shaking hands with Sawamura again, this time with an unfortunate finality.

They're both worn and sweaty, arms about to fall off, but the clasp of their handshake still holds firm. Sawamura’s eyes are still leaking despite his happiness.

“What's with the tears? I'm the one who should be crying,” Kuroo tells him with a crooked smile.

“God, I know, but I think I might be going into shock,” Sawamura chokes out. Their teammates are already starting to separate, but Kuroo squeezes tight once before letting go.

“C’mon, captain, you've gotta hold it together for one more day. We'll be rooting for you. Take the cup back to Miyagi.”

Sawamura takes a shaky breath, and exhales sharply once, before looking back at Kuroo with clear, brown eyes. He nods. “One last game. We'll make it a good one.”

“That's the spirit!” Kuroo calls over as he runs over to join his team in front of his coach.

Until now, he's been keeping the frustration bottled up, careful not to lose his composure, but when Nekomata-sensei begins speaking, he can't hold back any longer. The mistakes they could have prevented, the chances they missed - it all comes back when Nekomata-sensei tells them they did well. It hurts all the more when he tells them he's proud of them and how much they've grown, because at the moment it mattered the most, here, on the national stage, they weren't good enough. All the what-ifs and could-have-beens hang heavy as a specter now that there's nothing but hindsight and nostalgia to look back on.

But Kuroo can't regret any of it, not when Kai swipes away his tears and claps Kuroo on the back in one motion, and Yaku, standing tall even as he continues to cry, tells Kuroo to buck up for the team’s sake. How could he ever regret the three years he spent playing with his team? How can he be anything but grateful that he had the fortune to exist in the same time and place as them, even if only for such a brief time?

They bow to their coaches, and they march toward the stands to bow to their supporters: their families and friends and fans. And they express their thanks in unison to the steadfast applause of those who have stood by them through this whole journey. Afterwards, there's nothing left but to leave the court for the final time.

Kuroo pulls both of his aces into a one-armed hug as they step off. Lev still looks shell-shocked, and Yamamoto can't stop gritting his teeth even as his tears are starting to dry, but if anything, Kuroo’s presence makes it worse.

“You did well,” he tells them. “You both played a great game out there today.”

Yamamoto scrubs violently at his eyes, garbling out, “Don't be so nice about it, Kuroo-san. It doesn't suit you. Just tell it like it is.”

“All those blocks I missed. And the spikes that went out of bounds…” Lev looks like he's gearing up for a royal mope so Kuroo tousles his hair until it's a complete mess, which makes him squeak in indignation, but brings out a small laugh from Yamamoto.

“Of course there's things you still need to improve on - we all made mistakes we shouldn't have, but that doesn't change the facts.” Kuroo punctuates his words with a slap to each of their backs. “You played well. I couldn't have asked for more in a last game.”

“Well, you could've asked for us to win,” Yaku snarks as he walks by with Shibayama and Fukunaga, but he's smiling despite the remnants of tear tracks on his cheeks. Kuroo sticks his tongue out at him as they exit the stadium.

“Shush, you demon-senpai. Let me impart my captainly wisdom without your harsh input.”

Kai, Inuoka, and Kenma are bringing up the rear, but Kenma suddenly quickens his pace when they spot Karasuno exiting from another set of doors. Kai shares a look with Kuroo, but they let him be, curious what he could be up to with such uncharacteristic haste. He stops a few yards back, pausing to think about something before taking a deep breath.

“Shouyou!” Kenma shouts - honest to goodness, literally _shouts_ \- and the other boy stops short in the middle of his team, springing to attention the second he hears his name coming from Kenma’s mouth. The rest of Nekoma also freezes, waiting to see how this plays out. But for once, Kenma isn't paying any mind to everyone's attention on him.

“Kenma! What did you think about the match?” Hinata asks, bounding forward. The side of his face is starting to swell from accidentally taking a blocked ball to the face, and he's being supported by Yamaguchi, but his energy hasn't flagged enough to stop him from darting over in a flash.

Kenma, still looking mostly disaffected, scrunches his mouth up as he deliberates. “It was...pretty fun. Playing with Kuro and the other senpai for the last time. But it was also a little annoying. You're like a gnat, Shouyou, buzzing around the court like that. I don't know how you do it.”

Hinata’s smile, brilliant and sheepish all at once, manages to bring out Kenma’s, albeit a much smaller, subtle one. “That's what Tsukishima says too! But I don't mind being annoying if it means you can finally have fun. I can't wait until we can play each other again!” Kuroo thinks he might be jumping the gun a little bit, as he's already unsteady on his feet, but Kenma tilts his head, nodding.

“Me too. But the next time we meet here, it'll be Nekoma’s victory.” It's the most invested Kenma’s ever been in the outcome of a match and Hinata must realize, because he manages to beam even harder than before.

“We’ll see about that! We've still gotta make up for all those times we lost to you guys!”

“Until next time, then. Good luck tomorrow, Shouyou.”

Yamaguchi scuttles over to collect his friend, and they wave their thanks as Karasuno departs. Kenma weaves back to Kuroo’s side, shuffling into place next to Kai, and they make their way back to the changing room. It's subdued while they get ready to leave the stadium, until Lev says something that sets Yamamoto off, which gets Yaku going, and then they're all doing some combination of laughing and yelling at one another as they pack up.

The early evening air is chilly when they step outside for their final after-game dinner, a few stray flakes of snow starting to drift down. They choose a restaurant some distance from the hotel, far from the crowds, and Kuroo takes up at the rear guard, making sure to keep an eye on his team as they make their way there. He takes a minute to burn the scene into his memory, of his team chatting and laughing together, because in a few short months, it will be a thing of the past.

“Captain?” Shibayama’s voice breaks him out of his reverie, and he looks down to find Fukunaga gently pulling at his sleeve. For a second, he's overcome with a wave of melancholy at how much he'll miss them all, but he shakes himself out of it. Tonight is for togetherness, not for goodbyes.

He offers a steady smile to his teammates. “I'm good. Let's go inside before we freeze.”

Kenma sits by his side when they eat. Dinner starts off quietly, but they find their groove again and it's like it always was, comfortable and effortless, even as their time together has reached the beginning of the end. But Kuroo can worry about that another day. For now, he wants to enjoy what time he has left.

\--

The next morning finds Nekoma in the spectator’s seat again, waiting with Fukurodani for the Spring Cup finals to begin. The other Tokyo team had been knocked out in the semifinals, which has left their ace in an understandable funk, but Bokuto’s spirits are starting to slowly lift as the crowd gets going.

The stadium is abuzz with people talking about the underdog team, the fallen champions returned back to the battleground to prove themselves once more. No one has expected anything from Karasuno for years, but the sight of the team stalking out - jackets stark black, the wild flock swarming their half of the court like corvids descending on the pavement from the telephone wires and smokestacks above - they begin to remember. This is a team that used to shine. That used to _fly_ , and here they are again, the children of concrete, of the trash heap, risen again with wings healed and ready to take flight.

They won’t be flightless crows any longer.

That’s what everyone’s whispering, that the former glory of Karasuno is back, but Kuroo doesn’t care about old legends and lost legacies. He cares about the team going up to bat now, the discarded countryside team no one ever expected. He cares about the Karasuno that Sawamura, Suga, and Azumane built: the Karasuno that Nekoma’s grown attached to in just one short year.

Kenma, sitting between Kuroo and Yamamoto, is perched near the edge of his seat, which is the closest he'll get to showing how nervous he is about the coming match. Kuroo slings an arm around his shoulder and jostles him lightly, pointing down at the orange mop of hair bobbing around the court.

“We wouldn't have lost to Karasuno if they weren't strong enough to take it all,” he assures Kenma, who relaxes only marginally, still clutching at the ends of his long sleeves.

“It's different watching from up here. I've never seen them from the stands before.”

“They do look smaller,” Bokuto agrees, and Kuroo snorts.

“Great observation, bro. Dunno how I would've gotten that without you.”

“You know what I mean. Wish I could be seeing this from down on the court,” he sighs.

Kuroo leans back in his chair. “True, you guys never got to go up against them in a real match. You're gonna have to live vicariously through Akaashi. Maybe if you drop in enough next year, they'll let you play with the team.”

“Kuroo-san, please don't give him any expectations. He's going to make unannounced visits all the time if you encourage him,” Akaashi says from Bokuto’s other side, and Kuroo laughs at him.

The whistle sounds and the two teams line up to begin. Kuroo only realizes he's holding his breath after Karasuno’s serve sails neatly over the net, and the back and forth begins.

The game is long, stretching five sets into a vicious war of attrition. It seems like the match is more physically taxing on Karasuno than their opponents, but the crows don't let up for a second. They scrape through the first set with a victory, but the next two elude them, making the fourth set almost agonizingly stressful to watch.

Kenma remains sitting forward, narrowed eyes focused on their friends below, while Yamamoto and the first years take to standing up and yelling encouragement along with the cheering crowds. Kuroo tries to stay calm, but he and Bokuto almost fall down to the next row of seats when they jump in pride at a beautiful block Tsukishima pulls off. The fourth set goes back to Karasuno, but not without some casualties. Kageyama was sent off to medical late in the third set, and after Tanaka takes a hand injury, the other second years switch in and out to cover for him.

Sugawara, despite not being the lead setter, carries them well, and the fifth and final set begins in Karasuno’s favor, but it's not an easy fight. Sawamura makes an outstanding receive at one point, but manages yet again to injure himself. Kuroo winces with him, but it seems like all he has is shoulder pain that he's willing to shrug off until after it's all over. Kageyama makes his return in time to switch back out with their pinch server, but once each team hits 10 points the battle becomes excruciating. They volley for every point, both sides diving to save each ball; Kuroo notes again how much the flying fall practice must have helped Karasuno.

At this crucial point, Azumane catches the opportunity to make an absolutely brilliant spike, sending it through the blocking wall with the force of a hurricane. It gives Karasuno a chance for a break, and suddenly, they're pushing 14 points to 13. Karasuno’s match point.

The next serve is received cleanly, and the same volley down to the death begins. At some point, he must have stood up, because he's standing next to Kenma and Bokuto as they watch the other team spike the ball right into Nishinoya’s path. This is their fatal mistake.

The ball makes its way to the setter, and Kuroo can feel the next few seconds happening before he sees it. All of Nekoma can, but somehow, it still comes as a surprise. One second, Hinata’s standing in the back, but then the ball leaves Kageyama’s hands, and Kuroo _knows_. This is it. The match is going to end here.

Kageyama, form perfect, sends the ball with pristine accuracy right where it needs to be, and the other team tries to stop them, they really do, but speed isn't on their side. Hinata’s hand meets the ball dead-on, sending it with resounding finality to the ground.

There’s absolute silence for one second, the sound of the ball having left a vacuum behind, but then the stadium erupts. The noise is explosive, and no one’s cheering louder than the loyal little group of alumni and siblings that’s been present at every single one of Karasuno’s games. Kuroo knows he's probably yelling wordlessly like a fool, but he takes one look at the bright smile on Kenma’s face and he can't even care. Down on the court, Hinata has straight-up tackled Kageyama right into Tsukki’s stomach, and the three of them begin flying into Azumane before the rest of the team surrounds them in a massive hug. Kuroo knows he’s going to cheer himself hoarse, but in his exhilaration it doesn’t matter.

The crows have finally taken back the skies.

\--

Afterwards, once the awards ceremony is over, Kuroo tries to catch sight of Karasuno for the rest of the closing ceremony, but there's too much of a frenzy surrounding them, and it's impossible to break through. He wonders distantly what that must be like, for them to be thrust into the spotlight. He's sure some of their players are handling it better than others. Sawamura must have his hands full again. He'll have to catch up with him later, after all the celebrations die down.

When everything has finally ended, and spectators begin flooding outside, Nekoma bids goodbye to their friends from Fukurodani and heads back onto their bus to go home. It's almost anti-climatic, the end of their nationals run, but Kuroo supposes that's what happens when you don't win. Even if this was one of the biggest events of his life doesn't mean it can't end quietly, on a slow bus ride back home through the still busy streets of Tokyo. They don't have too far of a distance to traverse, but they're mired in the evening traffic as snow begins to fall with more intent, leaving whispers of white on treetops and sidewalks.

Kenma has fallen asleep again, drooping onto Kuroo’s arm. He's warm, but his presence feels wispy somehow, and it leaves a pang in Kuroo’s heart, as he remembers he'll be leaving Kenma behind for the first time soon. Condensation gathers on the bus window, frosty and clouded, and Kuroo swipes his hand through it for lack of anything better to do. He feels cold and dull, somewhere between dissatisfied and wistful, and it's not a feeling he enjoys.

He fiddles around with his phone, looking through his photos like a maudlin old man, grinning at one group selfie of the team set at an awful angle that leaves them scrunched at the bottom with way too much background in the top corner. He saves it as his lock screen and keeps scrolling through albums until he finds one with himself and Bokuto, both of them barely sixteen and looking skinny and awkward. He sends it off to Bokuto with a sigh as he watches the wind almost blow over a standing umbrella outside.

to if found please return to akaashi: (6:12) **the glory days are over**  
(6:12) **at least we're still hot**  


(6:14) _kurooooo dont remind me_  
(6:14) _im not ready 2 let go yet_  


(6:15) **tell me about it**  
(6:16) **you gonna keep going to practice?**  


(6:17) _duh!!!_  
(6:17) _tho akaashi says i gotta concentrate on class_  
(6:18) _but i dont wanna b left out :(_  


(6:19) **he just wants to be sure you're really gonna graduate this year**  
(6:20) **i don't think he can handle another year of you**  


(6:20) _mean!!_  
(6:23) _akaashi loves me_  
(6:23) _he just said so_  


(6:23) **did he though**  
(6:24) **did he actually**  


(6:25) _ok no he said “bokuto-san pls stop standing on the seat”_  
(6:26) _BUT when i asked if he loved me_  
(6:27) _he said “sure bokuto-san now pls sit down”_  


Kuroo laughs into his sleeve, which is pressed to his cheek in an attempt to keep warm. This is such an inane conversation, but talking to Bokuto does always seem to make him feel better without fail.

(6:28) **yeah okay i guess that counts**  


(6:29) _AND he said im the best captain hes ever had :D_  


(6:30) **yeah but like**  
(6:30) **he's only got two to choose from**  


(6:32) _well i guess we already kno that im better than my future successor_  


(6:33) **isn't HE going to be captain next year?**  


(6:34) _shit i forgot_  


(6:35) **ooh shame on you**  
(6:35) **shaaaame**  


(6:36) _it just like_  
(6:36) _left my brain_  
(6:36) _i totally forgot!!_  


(6:37) **bro you're too young for alzheimer’s**  


(6:38) _right???_  
(6:39) _yo promise me when were old and wrinkly u will visit me in the nursing home_  
(6:39) _n read our old letters 2 me like in the notebook_  


(6:40) **i’ve never written you any letters**  


(6:40) _our old texts then_  


(6:41) **look let's be honest**  
(6:41) **you know we'll probably be living in the same nursing home together**  
(6:42) **being senile and obnoxious and terrorizing the other residents**  


(6:42) _ok then lets get sawamura to do it_  
(6:43) _hes reliable_  


(6:43) **yeah i don't really think he's gonna go for that**  
(6:44) **the last thing you and i texted about was corgis and spray tans**  
(6:45) **i can't see sawamura agreeing to read fifty years worth of corgi texts to us**  


(6:46) _u never kno until u ask_  


(6:47) **okay remind me in a couple of decades**  


The bus finally approaches their neighborhood, nearing the school. Kuroo knows his mom should be parked somewhere in the area, waiting to pick him and Kenma up. It's almost seven p.m. now, and though Kuroo thinks Karasuno may still be celebrating their victory, he thinks he should congratulate them before it becomes too late in the day.

to too good for the skytree: (6:53) **i know you're probably still busy so you should ignore these messages til later**  
(6:54) **but i never got the chance to congratulate you and your team**  
(6:55) **so here goes**  
(6:55) **you guys were fucking amazing today**  
(6:56) **that win was well-deserved**  
(6:56) **i’m really glad i got to witness it**  
(6:57) **and i’m happy nekoma got to be a part of karasuno’s comeback**  
(6:57) **so congrats sawamura**  
(6:58) **you're a national champion now**  
(6:59) **don't forget about us little guys now that you're famous okay?**  
(7:00) **please don't replace my spot in your heart with some new shinier favorite captain**  


Kuroo returns home to some fanfare: Kenma’s family has come over and they get swarmed with hugs and questions, to Kenma’s chagrin. There's even a small cake to celebrate how far they made it. Kenma stays over afterwards, huddling up on Kuroo’s couch to play Persona while Kuroo begins sorting his notes for class on Monday. The winter quiet falls on them comfortably, interrupted only by the occasional cutscenes that Kuroo hovers over to watch.

After he walks Kenma home, Kuroo mills about his room, trying to work up the discipline to go to sleep. Tomorrow's still the weekend, so he can afford to sleep in if he wants to, but he should really start making his life more orderly for his upcoming exams. Eventually, after wasting some time on social media and reading some online reviews for a book he's not even sure he wants, he wriggles under the covers to trick his body into thinking he wants to sleep. This mostly consists of squeezing his eyes shut and mumbling the words to a silly yogurt drink jingle that's suddenly stuck in his head.

It loops about four times before he finally relaxes into his pillow, feeling the faint strains of sleepiness tug at him. It's at this moment that his phone begins to ring. He almost doesn't recognize the sound at first, his brain still trying to complete the jingle that's driving him batty. In his attempt to grab his cell, he winds up flipping it off his bedside table with clumsy fingers still somewhat swollen from his last game. Unfortunately, it's too dark find it without getting up, so he crawls from his bed with an anguished groan, pawing around the ground toward the source of the sound.

He manages to pick up on the fifth ring, rasping out a “hello?” while flopped on the floor with one leg still stuck in his blankets.

“Kuroo?” There's plenty of background noise, mostly loud singing and laughter, but the voice is unmistakable.

“Sawamura? Is that you?”

There's a bubble of a laugh before Sawamura responds. It slips out like an accident and Kuroo lies the right side of his face down flat on his carpet, balancing his phone on the other side. “Yeah! Look, I got your texts- oh boy, nope, Kageyama- do _not_ climb on that, no, I don't care what they told you, they're lying-”

“You okay there?” Kuroo asks, chuckling into the floor when Sawamura begins hollering for Ennoshita. The festivities must still be carrying on. Kuroo knows that Karasuno isn’t riding back home until tomorrow morning.

“No, I'm good, totally, just gotta stop us from getting banned from every respectable institution in Tokyo,” Sawamura growls, and it sounds as if he's jogging somewhere.

“You can't stop the party, captain. Just gotta let some things slide this time.”

“It's a slippery slope with them, Kuroo.”

“Sawamura,” Kuroo coaxes. “It’s a special day. You can relax this once.” He can hear music playing from somewhere far off, but Sawamura seems to be moving away from the source.

“I relaxed so much I almost shattered an ice sculpture.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t lean against decorative end tables anymore?”

“I wasn’t even leaning!” Sawamura exclaims, half-laughing at the incident. “The first years came running by and I just wanted to back up out of their way, but I guess the ice was closer than I thought? There’s still a damp spot on my shorts. Luckily Shimizu and Suga caught it before it fell.”

Kuroo pauses as he tries to visualize the event, and then he starts choking on his own laughter. “Holy fuck. Sawamura Daichi, are you telling me you - unaware of how much junk you have in your trunk - almost accidentally knocked over an ice sculpture with your ass?”

“Oh my god, don’t put it that way!” Sawamura is protesting, but he sounds more amused than scandalized.

“How else am I supposed to put it? Isn’t that literally what happened?”

“Yeah, but- okay, look, just don’t tell anyone how it went down. Actually, let’s just pretend I didn’t tell you this.”

“Alright, since you kept your promise, I’ll do you this favor and never mention it again.”

“Great.” Sawamura lapses into a momentary silence and Kuroo takes the chance to finally yank his leg free from the bed. “Kuroo,” he continues, and Kuroo grunts in response as he tries to ignore the pins and needles in his foot. “I wanted to thank you. For everything.”

A weird squirminess fills Kuroo’s stomach, so he does what he does best and tries to deflect. “Huh? Is this your way of saying you’re glad I missed my serve in the fifth set?”

Sawamura huffs at him. “No, I’m being serious. But I _am_ glad you missed that serve. Really though, thank you. For training with us, for always listening to me, and for being a good friend.”

“Nah,” Kuroo says with a shrug. Inside, he continues to feel a discomfiting surge of warmth at the sound of Sawamura’s voice.

There’s a beat of quiet from Sawamura’s end and Kuroo can hear a very rowdy duet occurring. “What do you mean, ‘nah’?”

“What it sounds like. I do not accept your thanks.”

“Pfft, well, your unacceptance is unacceptable. I’m thankful. For you. And you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Kuroo snorts; Sawamura’s words are almost word-for-word the same as Suga’s. They really do know each other too well. “What if I can’t? It’s too much responsibility for me; I can’t handle it.”

“Then I’ll just keep thanking you until you get used to it. Anyway, it’s no more on your plate than you already had. You were already my favorite captain, right?”

With a sigh, Kuroo rolls over. “You got me there. Fine. Be thankful, see if I care.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

“Ugh, you’re killing me, Sawamura. I’m lying here dead on my bedroom floor.”

“Sorry,” Sawamura chuckles, but then he hums in thought, remembering something. “Wait, shit, were you trying to sleep? Do you have school tomorrow? Fuck, sorry, I'll just-”

“Sawamura, you doofus, calm down,” Kuroo breaks in. “Tomorrow's Sunday. I'm fine; I'll just sleep in.”

“Are you sure? I can let you go. I should probably go stop them from eating themselves sick, anyway.”

“Aw, sweetheart, I always have time for you,” Kuroo purrs, and he can basically hear Sawamura rolling his eyes over the phone.

“Yep, you need your rest. Goodnight, Kuroo. Enjoy your day off.”

“I will. Hey, congrats again. You guys really went and won it all, just like you said. It was pretty damn awesome.”

“Thanks. I think I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, somehow. I don’t think it’s going to be real to me until I wake up tomorrow,” the other boy confesses. Kuroo stretches his back, staring at the silhouette of his curtains drawn across his windows. Somewhere out there tonight, across the snow-covered streets, is Sawamura right now, still coming to terms with his victory and the future of his team.

“Don’t you worry, it’s definitely real. When you wake up tomorrow, go hug the cup to prove it to yourself.”

“I don’t think I need to go _that_ far.”

“What’s the point of having a championship trophy if you’re not going to hug it? Boooo. Boooooooo!”

“Alright, I’ll hug it. Quit booing.”

“Thank you~” Kuroo trills, and Sawamura laughs begrudgingly.

“Okay, it’s really time for you to go to sleep. I’ll call you sometime next week; I think I need some ideas for that paper I haven’t started yet.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Good luck with your fledglings.”

After they hang up, Kuroo climbs back into bed like a sloth, finally ready to doze, but his phone pings one last time for an incoming text. It’s a photo from Sawamura, of his whole team with the trophy, all of them sweaty, exhausted, and exuberant. Kuroo sighs, a little envious, but mostly fond, and saves it to his phone.

Karasuno really is something special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realistically, I don't think Karasuno and Nekoma would meet any later than the quarterfinals, buuuut I don't really care. Also, there'll probably be a canon Fukurodani/Karasuno match, but it would hurt my heart to write all of these games, so we'll say they weren't bracketed in a way that would allow for that.
> 
> Also also, for the sake of narrative flow, let's just pretend there's no third place match - I assume in real life there would be one, but I honestly don't know? Anyway, that's all for this chapter. As always, please tell me if you have any questions or concerns. Thank you for reading so far!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life continues to be less than optimal, but chapters 229 and 230 were pure and good, so I busted this out in the hopes that it might help cheer some people up. I love you all, and I hope you're safe and well.
> 
> In case the group text at the beginning is confusing (because the way I write texts was poorly thought out), the key goes like this:
> 
> Akaashi is underlined  
>  _Daichi_ is italicized  
>  _Bokuto_ is both underlined and italicized  
>  **Tsukishima's cameo** is bolded and underlined  
>  And **Kuroo** is bolded, as usual. All one-on-one text conversations follow previous convention of Kuroo in bold, and the other person in italics.

“I'm cute, right?”

Yaku, squinting at him like he doesn't want to admit they know each other, backs away behind a shelf of washi tape. “Never ask me that again.”

Kuroo pouts, and turns to Kai. “You should get a pair too.” He picks out a white band with long bunny ears and slides it messily onto Kai’s head. His vice captain allows the action, but reaches up to adjust the headband afterward.

“We look dumb, Kuroo,” he says matter-of-factly, following after him as they try to hunt down their underclassmen wandering through the department store.

“No, we’re adorable.” He forces Kai to a halt and snaps a picture of him, smiling at the result. “Look at you. When you and Kurokawa finally get married I'm gonna put this in your wedding slideshow.”

“Take him out of the wedding party now, Kai, or you'll regret it later.” Yaku stalks by, this time dragging an overly curious Lev with him.

Kai examines the picture himself, tilting his head thoughtfully. “It's not the worst picture of me you’ve ever taken. I'm not going to buy this, though.” He removes his headband and goes to take Kuroo’s antlers as well; Kuroo leaps back, blocking him with his arms.

“Don't, it's my charm point.”

“It's not very effective,” Kenma says, finally emerging from the stacks of used games he's been rummaging half-heartedly through. “I think looking at it too long is more likely to make people angry than charm them.”

“Why must you all be so cruel to me? You'll regret this when I'm gone,” Kuroo scolds, fake sniffling. “I bet Bo’s got my back on this.”

He shoots a quick selfie, winking at the camera and sticking his tongue out, and sends it to Bokuto with a desperate “ **i’m cute right?????** ”

Those with things to buy are starting to line up, so Kuroo finally puts the deer antler headband back and goes to lurk around the storefront, waiting with Kai for Inuoka and Kenma to finish up. The others have gone on ahead to the next floor to look at the sale items. He's debating whether or not to buy the novelty whale-shaped tea infuser hanging from a display by the doorway when he receives a response to his photo, but it's not from who he expects.

from the bird whisperer: (1:47) You are somewhat cute, Kuroo-san. 6.1 out of 10.

He spends a minute boggling at Akaashi’s message before another one comes in.

from unknown: (1:47) **Please delete my number from your phone and never contact me again. Thank you!**

What the fuck? _Who_ the fuck? It's only then that Kuroo realizes he's in some sort of group text that Bokuto’s made him a part of, and that his idiotic photo has been forwarded to all these people.

to owl b there 4 u, the bird whisperer, kenma!, i have ten children, unknown: (1:48) **bo, what the hell, man**

from owl b there 4 u: (1:48) _sry i just wanted 2 get some other opinions!!_  
(1:48) _jsyk i think ur mega cute buddy_  
(1:49) _:)_

(1:49) **okay akaashi and kenma i can forgive**  
(1:49) **sawamura not as much**  
(1:50) **i still had him believing i was cool, dude**

from i have ten children: (1:50) _No worries, Kuroo, I never thought you were cool._

(1:51) **fucking swell**  
(1:51) **and i don't even know who this last guy is**

(1:51) _its tsukki!!!!!_

(1:52) **you two text each other??**

(1:52) _well he just blocked me so_  
(1:52) _guess not_

(1:53) **ANYWAY tsukki aside i’m not buying the headband so you can all just carry on with your lives again**

(1:53) _Aw, why not?_

Kuroo glares at his phone. Kenma and Inuoka finally join them, the former shooting Kuroo a flat look after silencing his phone, and they leave the store to find their teammates. Kuroo continues furiously texting as he walks, counting on Kai to prevent him from walking into any shoppers.

(1:54) **mostly cause yakkun would set me on fire if he saw me wearing it**

(1:54) _That's too bad. You really were kind of cute._

Kuroo almost falls off the escalator, but Kai’s sturdy arm reins him in. They make it to the next floor in peace, but Kai’s hand remains latched onto Kuroo’s shirt collar as they shuffle along. Since everyone's just looking at clothes Kuroo decides to hang around near the registers while the others browse so he can finish this conversation that he no longer understands.

(1:56) **uh**  
(1:56) **seriously?**

(1:56) _Yeah, like a 7.4 out of 10._  
(1:57) _But you also look really...stupid?_

(1:57) _o damn sawamura not pulling any punches_

(1:57) I think it's a fair assessment.  
(1:58) Kuroo-san does look particularly brainless in this picture.

(1:58) **okay you're all cancelled**

(1:58) _Oh, Suga rates you an 8.2!_  
(1:59) _Pretty good!_  
(1:59) _But Tsukishima told me that he never wants to look at your face again._  
(2:00) _Can’t win ‘em all._  
(2:01) ╮(︶︿︶)╭

(2:02) I didn't take you for the emoji type, Sawamura-san.

(2:03) _Haha, I don’t normally use them_  
(2:03) _but it seemed fun when Kuroo did it, so I thought I'd try it out_  
(2:04) _...I'm doing it correctly, right?_

(2:04) _ur doin gr8 bro :)))_

The group text suddenly turns into a discussion of proper emoji usage and Kuroo has some choice words for all of these awful friends of his, but in the distance he hears Yamamoto revving up his engines about something or other, so like the responsible young man he is, he puts his phone away to go hunt down his delinquent underclassmen. Fukunaga’s stomach starts rumbling shortly after they gather back together, so they head down to the basement floor to eat cream puffs before continuing to the next store.

In the cafe, Kuroo divides a large matcha cream puff and waves one half in front of Kenma’s face until his friend pauses his game long enough to stuff it in his mouth. When he checks his phone again he finds that he's missed 215 messages, and that they've collaboratively defaced his picture by working together to draw him into what looks like a magical girl outfit. At first he's offended that they've made his dress blue, but he's more disgruntled by the fact that Kenma apparently took part too, scrawling on a tiara when Kuroo wasn't paying attention. What a betrayal.

There's a lot of jabber about random topics, but they come back to a discussion about why Kuroo needs affirmation of his cuteness in the first place, and have decided, with apparently plenty of input from both Fukurodani and Karasuno, that he's worried about his romantic prospects in college.

(2:54) _im not sure how much the headband rly helps_  
(2:54) _hes already in good shape n his hair is nice_  
(2:55) _so i dunno if he needs 2 think abt it 2 much_

(2:55) It’s debatable how nice his hair is.  
(2:56) But it isn't his looks that are the problem.  
(2:56) It's his personality.

(2:56) _ouch akaashi……._

(2:57) There's nothing fundamentally wrong with Kuroo-san, but his penchant for antagonizing people might prove to be a problem for him in the long run.

(2:58) _He can be surprisingly mature, though._  
(2:58) _Maybe he's more straightforward when it comes to dating?_

(2:58) _i dont think ive ever actually seen kuroo interested in anyone_  
(2:59) _kenma would prolly kno_

(3:00) **guys wtf i am legit right here**  
(3:00) **in this conversation**  
(3:01) **why you gotta dissect my life right before my very eyes**

Kuroo swivels to look at Kenma, whose eyes flicker between him and his phone with what looks almost like a smirk.

“I don’t think I like the look on your face,” Kuroo says cautiously.

“They’re right, Kuro. If you want someone to like you back, you’re going to have to be less aggravating,” is all Kenma tells him.

“Ha, well, that’s not really an issue I’m going to have any time soon.” Not that Kuroo doesn’t want to ever date or be in a relationship, but it’s not like he’s really looking right now. He always figured that when he finally did find someone he was into, he’d sort it out then. No use dithering over it preemptively. 

“Hm. If you say so.” Kenma says nothing else, but those golden eyes are certainly judging him.

They leave the cafe to go check out the sporting goods store, and while Kuroo’s helping Lev pick between several different colors of tape, he receives a private text.

from i have ten children: (3:13) _Despite what Akaashi thinks about your hair_  
(3:13) _And your personality_  
(3:13) _You’re fairly_  
(3:13) _Uh_  
(3:14) _How do I say this_  
(3:14) _Look, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people in college who find you attractive_  
(3:15) _And will want to date you_  
(3:15) _So don’t worry about it_  
(3:16) _You’re cute enough_

Kuroo finds himself stuck between several different emotions at this string of texts, but mostly he’s just in disbelief that he managed to land himself in this situation in the first place. Should he be touched that Sawamura’s worried about his dumb feelings? Should he be laughing at the absurdity? Should he be proud that multiple people have in fact called him cute today? 

(3:16) **ohhhhh my god**  
(3:17) **you’re trying to comfort me**  
(3:17) **you’re CAPTAINING me right now**

(3:18) _I’m not!_

(3:18) **you are**  
(3:18) **you’re doing your supportive senpai thing**  
(3:19) **because you think i’m like lonely or heartbroken or something**

(3:20) _No! I just thought maybe you needed a reminder_  
(3:20) _Of_  
(3:21) _Um. Your charms?_  
(3:21) _Like a self-esteem boost?_

(3:21) **sawamura, my guy**  
(3:21) **my pal**  
(3:22) **my darling**  
(3:22) **i am fully aware that i am a fine specimen of man**  
(3:23) **but it’s really cute that you think i’m cute** ♥

(3:23) _Why_  
(3:24) _Why did I try to help you_

(3:24) **it’s your fatal flaw**  
(3:24) **you let yourself become too invested in my well-being**  
(3:25) **and now you feel responsible for my train wreck self**

(3:25) _That’s...sadly accurate._

(3:26) **but it’s okay!**  
(3:26) **because we have a mutual and healthy friendship**  
(3:27) **so i will also continue to meddle in your affairs as much as you do for me**  
(3:27) **in fact i’m more concerned with your lackluster love life than mine**

(3:28) _First of all, “lackluster” is kinda harsh_  
(3:28) _And second, I definitely don’t like how that sounds_  
(3:29) _Whatever you’re thinking of doing_  
(3:29) _Can you do it a little less?_

(3:30) **oh sawamura**  
(3:30) **when have i ever half-assed anything that’s even remotely important?**

(3:31) _I hate that I can't think of any examples._  
(3:31) _You know, today would be a great day to degenerate into an irresponsible mess._  
(3:32) _Doesn't that sound fun?_  
(3:32) _Wouldn’t you like to try it?_

(3:33) **nice try but the provocation expert doesn't get outplayed so easily**  
(3:33) **you're gonna have to be a lot craftier than that, babe**

(3:34) _Are you sure you want that?_  
(3:34) _It might be too much for you to handle._

Wow. Looks like Sawamura’s sass is back in full force. Kuroo grins. This is good. It’s been awhile since he’s had a worthwhile target. He looks up long enough to tell Lev to just get the tiger-print tape like Yamamoto, but the kid huffs about wanting to stand out even more as their future ace, so Kuroo shrugs and allows him to continue over thinking his decision.

(3:35) **ohohohohoho do you really wanna go?**  
(3:35) **you think you can outprovoke me?**  
(3:35) **are you actually gonna bring it?**

(3:36) _Oh, Tetsurou, I don't think you know what you're getting into._  
(3:36) _Why don't you mull it over for a couple of days?_  
(3:37) _Maybe ask Bokuto for his advice again._

(3:37) **my dear precious angel daichi**  
(3:37) **give me your best shot**

Kuroo stuffs his phone back in his pocket and flags down Kai to tell him he’ll need to run back to the department store to grab a few things. If he wants to get the drop on Sawamura, he’s going to have to strike first.

\--

The school year is coming to a close soon, and the national center test is less than a week away, so Kuroo’s been putting in a lot of overtime into his studies. There’s the other entrance exams to think about afterwards as well. Kuroo’s known since he was about fifteen that he’d want to study chemical engineering in college, and after a lot of research he’d chosen a few different schools strong in science and engineering to apply to. If he's leaning toward the one with a competitive and thriving volleyball team, well, no one can blame him.

He’s seated under the kotatsu again, listening to the radio softly playing old tunes as he goes over the answers to his practice exam. Kenma had been reading his textbook next to Kuroo, but has since fallen asleep, his head poking out from under the blanket as he dozes on his arm. Kuroo’s parents are currently out on a date, still obnoxiously in their honeymoon phase even all these years later. It’s kind of sweet, though Kuroo would prefer to tease them about it than ever tell them that.

With a red pen he ticks off each correct answer, leaving sticky tabs on the pages he needs to review. So far, so good, though he still needs to work on his literature and language sections. As the cuckoo clock on his wall announces the hour, the ringing of his phone suddenly disturbs the stasis of the room. Kenma stirs, but only turns over and continues napping. Without looking, Kuroo swipes to answer, distracted by the equation used in the answer key for his current problem.

“Kuroo speaking. How may I direct your call this evening?”

“Kuroo! Video chat! Now!” The voice is unexpected enough that Kuroo stops chewing on the end of his pen for the moment.

“Suga? ‘Sup? Why do you need to see my beau-ti-ful visage so badly?”

Sugawara doesn’t answer; there’s a blooping sound that indicates he’s trying to video call Kuroo, so he goes ahead and accepts. It’s blurry for a moment, zoomed in on silver strands of hair before Suga holds the phone still a good distance from his face. He looks extremely excited and Kuroo suspects he knows what this is about. “Daichi got your package,” Suga informs him, and they share matching grins.

“Yessss. How’d he react?” Kuroo had mailed the package the morning after Nekoma’s shopping trip, but it’s taken longer to reach Miyagi than he expected, considering the parcel only included a gag gift, a handwritten note, and a small bag of sweet potato kit kats.

Suga turns around to check on something, and Kuroo notices a scuffling noise at the end of the room that wasn’t there before. “It went something like suspicion, then exasperation, amusement, and finally fear when we told him to go put them on. At first he ran away, but we convinced him eventually. He should be over soon.” 

Kuroo stops chuckling when he realizes what Suga’s saying. “Wait. He’s actually wearing it?” He’d thought Sawamura would be too mortified to put it on. This might be an unexpected roadblock.

“Of course! After some persuading from me and Asahi. Daichi! Get over here!” he shouts, waving toward himself. “Here, wait, I’m gonna switch the camera.” The screen changes abruptly from Suga’s face to an empty kitchen counter, until he turns the camera around toward a hallway.

“Suga, this is ridiculous,” says Sawamura from somewhere in another room.

“This really doesn’t fit,” Azumane chimes in. “At all. I think he might split these shorts in half.”

“Oh, just get your butt out here already,” Suga says from behind the camera. There’s a lengthy sigh before Azumane gets shoved out into the hallway first. He waves at Kuroo, before peeking back into the room, putting his hands up in surrender when Sawamura finally stomps his way out. 

Kuroo thought he’d be prepared for the sight of him, even if he hadn’t thought Sawamura would ever really wear his “gift,” but he never could have accounted for this.

“Are you- what’s- is that a _Nekoma jersey_?” he splutters.

It isn’t just the jersey. Sawamura’s wearing a complete alternate uniform: white top and red shorts, but what’s really jarring about it all is that it’s at least two sizes too small. Both the shirt and the shorts sit way too snugly. Kuroo’s gaze skitters down long enough to notice that Sawamura’s thighs really do look like they’re about to burst through the seams, and of course, the cherry on the whole confounded sundae is the fuzzy black costume tail that wiggles around every time Sawamura shifts his legs. At this point, Kuroo barely registers the black cat ears nestled in Sawamura’s hair.

“It is!” Suga says triumphantly. Kuroo isn’t sure if his mouth is dry or if he’s begun to drown in his own spit. He kind of wants to die.

“Crap, I don’t know how I’m going to take this off later,” Sawamura mutters to himself while Suga cackles. “I really don’t want to break them.” He tugs at the hem of his shorts, trying unsuccessfully to cover more of his thighs. 

“How did you even _get_ that? Why is it so small?!” Kuroo demands. He sounds flustered. This is bad. He’s supposed to be the one agitating people, not the other way around.

“Funny story: I convinced Daichi he should wear the gift you so thoughtfully sent him, and Asahi said that if we really wanted to complete the look he should go all the way and dress like one of you cats.”

“I wasn’t being serious,” Azumane protests.

“Anyway, I made some calls, and someone was kind enough to send us his uniform to borrow for a few days!” Suga chirps, suddenly zooming in and out on the number 5 declared in bold red on the front of the shirt.

Someone. Kuroo glances away for a moment to glare at Kenma, still asleep and drooling into the carpet. He can’t believe he’s been doubly betrayed in the span of a week by his best friend of all people. Unbelievable.

He looks back at his phone in time to see Sawamura adjusting the little orange bows decorating his cat ears, and lets out a horrible, anguished sound. It catches Sawamura’s attention, and he steps forward, leaning in to grin at Kuroo, who feels like his lungs have been knotted together and dropped down into the bottom of his rib cage.

“Your note said that I should be more concerned about my own looks before worrying about other people, so I have to ask: am I cute yet?”

He sounds almost genuine, but Kuroo recognizes that quirk at his mouth that threatens to turn his innocent smile into a smirk, and he knows this is Sawamura’s way of turning Kuroo’s attack against him. Bastard. He's already lost to Sawamura in volleyball; like hell is he going to be defeated on his own turf. This is Kuroo’s game, and he's going to win, dammit.

So he collects himself and pretends his face isn't burning, hiding whatever out of control emotions are happening to him right now, and plasters on his signature grin. Sawamura’s ploy won't work if he's too embarrassed to follow through. “You're almost there! But you can't just dress to impress,” he sighs, reveling in the way it causes Sawamura to twitch when he doesn't react. “It's all about the attitude! You have to show ‘em your natural seductive charm. Try winking or shooting finger guns.” 

“Really? That's supposed to work?” Sawamura asks dryly.

“You're right, that's not nearly spicy enough. You need to really grab your target’s attention. Pretend your hand is a paw, like this,” he instructs, clawing at the air, “and say ‘nyaaaah’.”

Sawamura squints at him in disdain while Suga collapses into giggles in the background. “...have you ever actually interacted in any meaningful way with other humans before?”

“What, you don't trust me?”

“I trust you as far as Yachi can throw you.”

“Sugawara, Azumane, help me out here,” Kuroo pleads, trying to ignore the way Kenma’s jersey stretches taut against Sawamura's chest. 

“I think I'm just going to keep my mouth shut,” Azumane says from where he's hovering around by the wall while eating a packet of crackers.

But good old dependable Suga decides to pipe up in Kuroo’s favor. “Daichi, you should listen to him. I mean, his ideas are awful, sure-”

“Hey,” Kuroo interjects.

“-but he's right. You don't want to be single your whole life, do you?”

“I guess not?” Sawamura says, but he doesn't look convinced.

“See? So listen to what this terrible man has to say. Maybe it'll actually land you a boyfriend somehow.”

“Yep, exactly, I'm a boyfriend-snagging pro. I mean, for other people, not for myself. Not that I need any help getting a date. In any case, I'm the ultimate wingman,” Kuroo babbles, because his life is tail-spinning out of control.

So Sawamura dates guys. Or plans to date guys or will in the future or something. That's cool. It's not like it changes anything between them. Sure, Kuroo’s probably bi, but all of his pseudo-flirting in the past has been just harmless joking, because that's the way he is, and from the way Sawamura reacts to him, Kuroo’s sure he knows as much. So nothing's different and nothing's awkward and everything's great and Kuroo is totally winning their stupid contest right now.

“List three people you have successfully wingmanned,” Sawamura says, obviously waiting to see how far Kuroo’s willing to entangle himself in his lies. Lucky for him, Kuroo is willing to go above and beyond to sell a story.

“Easy. There was my friend Yuuko, who I helped hook up with this guy she liked on the basketball team,” Kuroo says, ticking off one finger. This one’s true, though the extent of his involvement had just been a few vague compliments about her during gym class, to plant the idea into the guy’s head. 

“And, there's...okay, not that we're friends or anything, don't get the wrong idea,” he continues, “but there's Daishou, with this random dude at volleyball camp a few summers ago.” None of them need to know that the relationship fell apart after two days. It's not like that part’s Kuroo’s fault: it's Daishou’s horrendous personality that ruined it. Daishou’s together with Mika now anyway. “And lastly, uh...I help set up these old friends of mine, Minami and Ryou.” Which happened to be about ten years ago, back in elementary school, and all he did was help pass notes between the two of them, but whatever, it totally counts.

“Huh. You're more capable than I expected. Good job,” Sawamura says, almost impressed.

“That's me, wingman extraordinaire. So trust me when I say you need to up your game. Now show me what you've got.”

They stare each other down for several seconds, but when Kuroo makes no sign of letting up, Sawamura gives in. With an excessive sigh, he lifts his hands, staring at them uselessly before reaching down toward his side and miming the action of pulling something out of a pocket. What emerges is his hands making a crumpled heart shape, which he offers toward Kuroo. “I’d like to give you my heart, if you would be willing to accept,” he says with a soft smile, the likes of which Kuroo’s never seen before. Sawamura doesn't even look at his team this way. Maybe these are his boyfriend-eyes, and he's been saving this secret side of himself for his future datemate. The knot in Kuroo’s chest does a little flip-flop before loosening. He thinks he might be undergoing gentle cardiac distress. 

“Wow,” he says, after a short silence. “I have mixed feelings about this.” On the one hand, it certainly has its charms, but on the other hand, it's a really cheesy move.

“Our shorts don't have pockets…” Azumane begins.

“Why do you keep your heart in your pants?” Suga asks dubiously.

“The shape’s a little off, too. It should be more like this,” Kuroo says, putting the phone down flat on the kotatsu for a moment to demonstrate.

“It's also kind of old-fashioned?”

“You don't really see that kind of move outside of dramas. I didn't know you were into those, Daichi.”

Sawamura rubs at his temple with one hand. “Well, that's that, then. I'll be single forever, because I obviously can't count on you three to help me. My un-cuteness can't be rectified, not even with your gimmicks, Kuroo. I better take these off.” He removes the cat headband with a sigh, but he really doesn't look regretful at all as he walks back down the hallway. The cat tail twitches back and forth as he retreats back into the other room and Kuroo has to avert his eyes from where the hypnotic motion leads his line of sight.

“I can't tell if I'm winning or not,” Kuroo says to Suga when he turns the camera back on himself.

“Is the game you two are playing even something that _can_ be won?” the setter asks.

“Of course! Are you telling me you've never taken part in a good old-fashioned provocation battle?”

“No, because that's not a real thing.” Suga raises an eyebrow when Kuroo pretends to be outraged.

“I don't think Suga could play for long anyway,” notes Azumane, wandering by behind Suga. “He can get worked up kind of easily.”

“Oi, what do you know about it?!” Suga demands, spinning around to chop at him again. Kuroo watches their antics from the jittering camera until Azumane has been suitably scared away.

“He's right; I'm glad I'm not taking you on,” he tells Suga, who just brushes it off with a laugh.

“I'm harmless. But I think you’re in for more than you bargained for with Daichi.”

“You say that, but most of this,” Kuroo says, waving his hand vaguely around, “was your fault, you troublemaker. Without you two goading him on, I’d have this in the bag after a few rounds.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Sawamura says, emerging from the other room again, coming up to squeeze into the frame with Suga. He’s wearing sweats and a hoodie, which should make him unthreatening, but the glint in his eye isn't gone, and Kuroo can tell their little game is far from over. 

“Ohohoho, I guess we will! But don't get too distracted by thoughts of me next week. I wouldn't want you to fail the national exam.”

“Aughhhhh,” comes a noise from near Suga’s feet.

“Shhh, don’t mention the exams,” Sawamura whispers. “Asahi doesn't want to think about it. He got a curse for his fortune at the beginning of the year, and it's putting him on edge.”

“I don’t want to think about it either,” Suga groans. “Haven’t I helped enough people study this year already?”

“C’mon, it's just a little more practice before the real thing. And you know I’m hopeless in literature without you.” Sawamura pats Suga on the shoulder before easing out of his space, giving Kuroo a little wave. “I think we've taken up enough of your study time. Good luck next week!”

“Thanks, good luck to you guys too. Tell Azumane he'll be fine,” Kuroo responds and Suga rolls his eyes fondly.

“Yeah, don't worry, we've got him. We'll be sending Kozume’s uniform back once it's been washed. Bye!” With one cheery last wave, Suga disconnects, leaving Kuroo to wonder just exactly what he's gotten himself into.

He puts his phone down on the kotatsu, staring numbly down at the problem he's been working on before. His pen has fallen to the wayside, and Kenma’s burrowed himself almost completely under the blanket. Kuroo has to lean over and yank him back out by the shoulders, so he doesn't suffocate. The image of Sawamura in that absurd outfit flickers back into his mind, followed by that tender smile and lopsided heart, and Kuroo has to rest his forehead on the table for a moment to compose himself. This might be a more difficult victory than anticipated.

After a few minutes, he manages to get back into concentration mode, picking up his pen and marking his answers again, but before too long, his phone chimes with its text tone.

He ignores it long enough to finish his first read through of his exam, but before he begins reviewing the problem areas, he can't help but look at his messages. Turns out it was Suga, sending him several different photos of Sawamura in his ridiculous getup. Instinctively, Kuroo saves the pictures, then begins cursing his own stupidity. He's about to go delete them when more messages appear.

from sugar-chan: (8:42) _Why don't you hold onto these?_  
(8:43) _They might be useful later on~_

(8:43) **good point i forgot about the blackmail possibilities**  
(8:44) **but** **don't pretend like you're on my side**  
(8:44) **you're too loyal to turn against him**

(8:45) _Kuroo, I just have both of your best interests in mind!_ (o´▽`o)  
(8:45) _Just be careful how far you take things._  
(8:46) _Daichi doesn't like to lose!_  
(8:46) _I don't want you to end up in over your head._

(8:47) **you should be worrying about him, not me**  
(8:47) **sawamura doesn't know what he's in for**

(8:48) _Honestly, I’m not sure either of you really knows._  
(8:48) _Anyway, best of luck! You'll need it! ☆_

“That’s reassuring,” Kuroo mutters, flopping back onto his practice test. He should delete those pictures before he forgets but he can’t bring himself to pick up the phone again. Every time he does, it spells trouble.

There’s a rustle of movement off to his right, and he looks down to see Kenma slowly blink himself awake. “Kuro?” Kenma asks groggily, rubbing at the indentation on his face left from sleeping on his arm. 

“Did you sleep well, you traitor?” Kuroo asks him, poking him in the forehead. But Kenma is still too drowsy to even flinch, choosing instead to crawl out from the kotatsu over to the couch instead.

“Your floor is too hard to sleep on,” Kenma sighs, hefting himself onto the couch behind Kuroo, who hands him his textbook once he settles in.

“Then it's a good thing you’re supposed to be reading, not napping.” 

Kenma leans back into the cushions and starts to flip through chapters to find where he left off, which is good enough indication for Kuroo that he's actually going to do work instead of falling back asleep, so he turns his attention back to his exam. Just in case, he slides his phone under the blanket, to prevent further distraction. There's still a lot of reviewing he needs to get done. He'll have plenty of time to annoy his friends later.

\--

The school year drags on, and suddenly it seems like everyone’s already struck with end-of-the-year syndrome, both tired and full of desperate vigor as they try get everything done. Volleyball practice continues, but it’s finally time for Kuroo and his class to semi-officially retire. There's a strange energy in the air as practice winds down today and they gather at the edge of the court. The whole team knows what's coming, but there's still a weird sense that maybe it isn't really going to happen.

But coach Nekomata summons them around him, and begins giving a short speech about everything they've accomplished this year. Kuroo is listening, but he lets his eyes wander to drink in the sight of their gymnasium. He’s made countless unforgettable memories here, but it’s time to let go. Time to pass on the baton. He just wishes it didn't feel so difficult.

“...and because the third years must now focus on their studies in order to prepare for their futures, they will be turning over leadership to next year’s captain and vice-captain,” Nekomata-sensei says. “Kuroo, if you could.”

It’s not like the whole team doesn’t know who it’s going to be; the second years aren’t a large class, and they’d jointly decided who would be best suited to each role. But tradition is tradition, and they need to make it official, so Kuroo steps forward and clears his throat. He’d considered writing a speech, but it was a bust. He’ll have to just say whatever comes to mind and hope it sounds meaningful instead of over-emotional drivel.

He starts off by thanking the team on behalf of all the third years. Kai and Yaku nod along in agreement as he gives a short pep talk, wishing them the best of luck for the coming year. Some of his kouhai’s faces begin to get a little bit wibbly as he and his fellow seniors share a few anecdotes about what they’ll miss most, but as they transition into a talk about the future of Nekoma, their expressions grow determined instead. He’s hit with a hard rush of deep fondness for all of them, but he keeps his tone light as he continues.

“So, obviously, you can’t get rid of us so easily,” Kuroo tells them with a grin. “You can count on us dropping in on practice next year to annoy the hell out of you if we catch you slacking. And of course, you might catch a glimpse of us cheering in the stands at games. But as of today, Kai and I are stepping down: we’re officially turning the reins over to you. So, uh, please join me in a round of applause for your new captain and vice-captain, Yamamoto Taketora and Kozume Kenma!” He finishes his little speech by sweeping his arm out to present the two in question.

“Do we really need to clap?” Kenma asks as everyone else applauds. It does look slightly silly, since they aren’t many in number, and nothing Kuroo said just now was a surprise, but no one lets up.

“Of course we do, Kenma-san! It’s part of the ceremony! And if we don’t start with energy now, how are we going to handle next year?!” Lev exclaims. Inuoka even lets out a little whoop.

“I’m getting fired up just thinking about it!” Yamamoto bellows. “My first decree as captain is that next year is our year! We’re taking the national championship if it’s the last thing we do! We’re going all out!”

“You saying we didn’t go all out this year?” Yaku asks, elbowing him, which incites some rapid backtracking from Yamamoto.

‘Of course not, Yaku-san, uh, I’m just saying that this time, we’re gonna give 150%!”

“You know we’re just messing with you,” Kuroo says, ruffling Yamamoto’s mohawk to his dismay. “You guys will do great. Or not, and the club will fall to pieces. I dunno. Guess we’ll see.”

“Kuro, stop taunting us.” Kenma slouches by as they slowly begin to migrate out of the gymnasium. “We all know you guys are going to come bother us again once exams are over.”

“I still feel like there’s a lot I need to learn,” Shibayama says, scratching at his neck, and Yaku slaps him on the back.

“Don’t worry too much. Like Kenma says, we’ll be around a little bit longer around the end of the year. But even without us, you’ll be just fine. You’re the team’s libero now, and I know you’ve got what it takes to wear the mantle of ‘Nekoma’s guardian’.” Shibayama brightens under his praise; everyone knows that Yaku doesn’t just throw empty compliments around.

“It’s up to you now to draw in new players,” Kai tells Inuoka and Lev. “You’re gonna be senpai soon enough.”

“Why don’t you guys finally go and recruit a female manager too?” Kuroo chuckles at the immediate distress/elation this brings to Yamamoto’s face. “Actually, never mind. I don’t think your new captain could handle it.”

“What! No, I can handle her- it! I can handle it, ugh, you know what I mean!” Yamamoto wails and Kenma snorts.

“Okay, clearly Tora can't be part of the recruitment effort. We’ll have to draw posters,” he says, making a sour face, and Kuroo laughs at his future plight.

“For now, let’s go get Haagen Dazs. Our treat,” Kai says, as they enter the locker room to get changed.

While the others cheer, Kuroo sidles up to Fukunaga, and perches on a chair while he waits for him to get packed up. “I’m gonna be counting on you to keep those two in line,” he tells his quiet underclassman. “Between your hotheaded captain and misanthropic vice, it’s up to you to pull the team together when they get to be too much. But you can handle it, right? You always were our secret weapon.”

Fukunaga remains silent, but he smiles and gives Kuroo a thumbs up, which is as good as a promise. Kuroo gives him a thumbs up back.

“Good. Alright, slowpokes, hurry up, or Kai won’t be paying for you!” Kuroo announces to the room at large, prompting a scramble. Inside, he’s feeling a curious sort of relief even as he aches for what he’s letting go of. But Nekoma’s going to be okay, and that’s what matters to him the most. Even as this present moment starts to become a memory, there’s the knowledge that the future stretches wide and far ahead of him, and there's nowhere to go now but forward, for all of them. 

The team will be fine without him. He'll be fine without the team. Kuroo can't say that he's really moved on, not quite yet, but he's excited to see what the future holds, for both himself and Nekoma.

\--

With the most dramatic motion he can muster, Kuroo flops onto the couch and releases a tremendous sigh, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Tetsurou, you're not fooling anyone,” his mother tells him, hovering over his prone form and wearing a dry smile. “I'm sure you did an excellent job, as always.”

“You're too lenient, as always,” he retorts. “This is the future of your only son, you know that, right?”

“Well, if you really did ‘totally blow it,’ I suppose I could transfer my hopes onto Kenma.” She pokes him in the side once and wanders back to her desk to continue working.

“Oh my god, how am I gonna help Kenma study when I'm in college?” Kuroo groans into his arm and rolls over so that he's inhaling the cushion.

“He’ll be okay without you. His mother says his studying habits have improved after years of your iron-fisted tutelage,” she tuts, typing up her report.

“At this rate, since I completely tanked the exam, I can stick around for another year to make sure he graduates.”

“ _Seven questions_ , Tetsurou. Out of all the tests you took today, there were only seven questions you weren’t sure about.”

“That I can remember! Who knows - maybe I got them _all_ wrong!” 

“Sweetheart,” his mother says, putting her glasses on the desk with a soft clatter. “I love you, I cherish you, and I will support you no matter what happens, but I am going to roll you into a snowbank if you keep moping here. Besides, we both know you’re only _pretending_ to mope.”

Kuroo turns back over, so that he’s no longer pressed into the couch, and lets one arm dangle off the edge to toy with the fraying end of the carpet. “You’re right. I’m trying to put off studying for the entrance exams,” he admits.

“Then take a break! A few hours won’t hurt. Go talk to your friends.” She flicks a paperclip at him, which he tries unsuccessfully to catch. A few more come flying his way when he doesn’t immediately get moving. One lands in his hair.

“Okay, okay, I get it, I'm going.” He finally surrenders and slinks up to his room after dumping the stray clips back in the container by her laptop.

On his bedroom floor are the copious textbooks he left there yesterday night, but he ignores them in favor of snuggling under the covers to blob around aimlessly in his bed. Now that the national center exam is behind him, he needs to focus on all the individual tests he still has to take in the coming weeks. He's awfully sick of applications and college prep at this point, but there are still two months until high school is over. What he wouldn't give to be playing volleyball with Fukurodani or Karasuno right now instead.

Going over to his recent contacts, he picks one at random and dials blindly. It goes straight to voicemail.

“This is Yaku Morisuke. Sorry I missed you, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll call you back at my earliest convenience. Thanks.”

Huh. The recording is a lot more polite than Kuroo remembers it being. Yakkun must have changed it recently, probably because of college admissions. He's tempted to leave a stupid message but decides against it, to avoid incurring Yaku’s wrath at this critical time. He makes to call someone else, but his eye catches on the pile of study materials, and the same guilt that rises from skipping practice shows up now. With some reluctance he gathers up his books at sets up at his desk. He might as well get to work now, while his weak spots are still fresh in his mind.

After two hours or so, nearing dinner time, his mother calls up the stairs, interrupting his sleepy perusal over old civics notes.

“Tetsurou! Something’s just arrived for you!”

Kuroo rereads the same sentence in his book for what feels like the ninth time while trying to figure out what on Earth she might be talking about. Bundling himself up into his oversized bathrobe, he hurries down the stairs, trying to minimize the contact of his bare feet against the cold hardwood floor. “What is it?” he asks as he skids onto the rug.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” she responds, and that’s when he notices she’s still trying to get the package indoors. He takes over, lugging the large box into the house so she can close the door before their house gets much colder. The box isn’t very heavy, and whatever’s inside doesn’t seem to be fragile, but that doesn’t lessen the mystery. It’s from an online retailer, is all the packaging slip says.

Still baffled, Kuroo gets the scissors to cut the tape off. His mother helps him remove all the excess bubble wrap, leaving it on the kotatsu to pop later, and Kuroo digs in deep, laughing when he realizes what’s inside. He pulls out a super-sized crow plush and hands it to his mom, who lights up.

“Oh! It’s so cute.” She gives it a hard squeeze, looking pleased when its round form springs back into shape. She rubs the velvety felt feathers on its head. “Who is it from?”

“I have my suspicions,” Kuroo tells her, bending back in to grab the customized note that the retailer included from his mystery sender.

“ _Kuroo_ ,” it says. “ _You’ve been complaining about the cold recently, so I thought this might help. Keep it on your bed. You might never get to know what it’s like to be a champion, but at least this way you’ll have the privilege of sleeping with one. Best wishes, Sawamura._ ”

Kuroo barks out a sharp laugh, delighting in the pettiness of it all. That jerk’s heart is ice cold, bringing up Nekoma’s defeat like that. “That son of a bi-”

“Language, son,” his mom scolds, squishing his crow some more. “So, who sent you such a cute gift?”

“A friend from Karasuno - you know, that team that won the Spring High this year. Sawamura. Their captain.”

“Ah, the nice looking boy.” She hands him back the plush and begins breaking down the box.

“Sure, he _looks_ nice, but he’s a terror underneath it all.”

“You’re well matched, then. You look like a terror, but you’re sweet deep down inside.”

“ _Thank_ you! No one ever believes me when I tell them that.”

Kuroo takes the crow back up with him to his room so that it doesn't soak up the scent of the leftovers his mother goes to heat up. He wedges it in between his pillows and the wall, where it remains until he goes back upstairs later that night. After grabbing his history textbook, he swaddles himself into bed again and finds himself face to face with its beady plastic eyes. The conical beak is soft when he pinches it, and he has to admit it is pretty cute for a revenge gift. He rolls it under his ankles and props his feet up on it while he reads over his last three chapters.

When he finishes reading, he finally allows himself the chance to relax for the remainder of the night. His history book is lowered to the ground and his phone fished out from his pile of blankets. The crow is recovered from under his legs and tucked next to him while he dials his generous benefactor.

“Soooo,” he drawls when Sawamura picks up.

“Yes, Kuroo?” 

“I got your gift.”

“Did you now?” Sawamura’s voice betrays his smile, even if he tries to keep his tone disinterested.

“I did. I’m cuddling with it right now, actually. Though I’m sure it doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. What was that you were saying about sleeping with a champion?”

“Ha, you should be so lucky. You’ll have to settle for the crow.”

“That’s cold, darling. Cold like my bed without you in it.”

“I think you’ll survive,” Sawamura chuckles.

Kuroo sighs wistfully. “I’ll have to, won’t I? I have to say, though, you’re a lot smoother in print than in person. Maybe you’re not so hopeless after all, Strikeout Sawamura.”

“Nope, still hopeless. It's not like people send out love letters or anything these days. Not that I'd be any good at that anyway.”

“I told you, there’s nothing to worry about. You have your reliable friend Kuroo on your side, remember? I’m gonna wingman you right into the man of your dreams, just you wait.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sawamura says skeptically. “Not like that wasn’t just the most dubious three sentences I’ve heard all week.”

“Stop doubting me so much.”

“You don’t even know my type, Kuroo. How am I supposed to place my trust in you?”

“It can’t be that hard to figure out. Let’s see,” Kuroo hums, thinking about what qualities Sawamura would appreciate in a romantic partner. “Someone sweet and well-organized. Someone likable with a bright personality...but maybe kind of reserved?” It’s pretty broad, but he thinks it’s a good educated guess. If nothing else, it’s the kind of person he’d think would match the other boy well, though now he’s mildly annoyed that he can’t think of anyone who would fit the bill.

“Hm, good try, but you missed the mark. Forget it. I can be single forever, no matter what Suga says.”

“Don’t be such a downer. I told you before, love is all around you, if you know where to look. Now tell me your type so I can help you, you ungrateful punk.”

Sawamura laughs again, quick and surprised, and there’s the thump of something heavy against something soft, followed by the rustle of cloth. Kuroo wonders suddenly if Sawamura is lying on his bed right now like he is, lazing around like him instead of studying. He bets Sawamura’s room is neat and uncluttered, unlike Kuroo’s, whose doesn’t ever cross from lightly messy into a pigsty, but which also never gets a thorough straightening up unless there’s a damn good reason for it. Sawamura probably re-shelves his books properly, instead of scattering them in an unbalanced pile on a chair like Kuroo does. His desk is likely to be sparsely utilitarian, though Kuroo thinks he might have some framed photos, maybe of Karasuno or his family. Absently, he wonders if he’ll ever get to see it, the place that Sawamura calls home.

“Okay, I would, but I actually don’t know what my type is?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes. “Then what was wrong with my guess?”

“Nothing, really. I just didn’t want you to pigeon-hole me.”

Kuroo huffs, flipping over onto his stomach. “You can be unexpectedly difficult, you know that?”

“Well, I can’t be perfectly nice and dependable all the time,” Sawamura teases. “Gotta get my kicks somewhere.”

“I do love when you show your true colors, you crafty crow bastard.”

“Sweet-talking me again?”

“You know it.”

“Soooo,” Sawamura says, partially to mock Kuroo, probably.

“Yes, Sawamura?” Kuroo echoes back.

“First round of exams are over.”

With a groan, Kuroo buries his face in his pillow. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to discuss how you passed with top marks.”

“Hey, that’s not-”

Sawamura overrides his protest by raising his voice. “No, I wanted to tell you I’ll be in Tokyo next week to sit the entrance exams at a few schools. I was hoping you might be free to-”

“Let’s go see the Skytree!” Kuroo interrupts gleefully.

“No. Seeing it in passing at Spring High was enough for me.”

“ _Fine_ , what would you rather do, you bumpkin?”

“Well, I’m going to be there two days for the tests,” Sawamura says, and there’s a thin thread of nervousness coming from him that wasn’t there before, “and my bus doesn’t leave the second day until the evening, so, I dunno, I was hoping you could take me around your neighborhood? I guess I was just curious about how you Nekoma guys live. Like, where you hang out, or y’know, whatever. It’s fine if-”

“Yeah, sure, let’s do it. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Kuroo blurts.

The smile is back in Sawamura’s voice when he asks, “Anywhere, huh?”

“You just name it, and we’ll go. The mall? The riverbed? Kenma’s house? I'll bring you there.”

“Thanks, Kuroo. I knew I could count on you,” Sawamura says warmly, and Kuroo scoffs. 

“Didn’t I say I wasn’t accepting any of your thanks?”

“Yeah, but it’s a weak spot for you, and if I want to win our little game I have to exploit every gap that you have.” He’s got Kuroo there. Accepting thanks has always been more awkward than it should be for him.

“Ahhh, stooping low, aren’t you? Good. I’m glad you’re taking it seriously.”

“Very seriously.”

“So what schools are you aiming for?”

While Sawamura tells him his college plans, Kuroo finds his wheels spinning as he tries to figure out the logistics for their day out. It’s not like he lives an extremely exciting life, so he’s afraid the tour might be dull, but then again, Sawamura’s the kind who wouldn’t mind seeing all the boring places Kuroo frequents. But he’ll still need to make a basic itinerary so he’s not left floundering on the day of. And he’ll have to make sure his parents aren’t around to embarrass him if he brings Sawamura home.

He starts explaining what chemical engineering programs he’s been looking into when he catches sight of his Nekoma jacket thrown over his closet door. And the pile of books threatening to finally spill over the edge of his chair. And the half-empty box of crab chips lying across his scattered notes, not to mention the various writing utensils that have managed to roll away under his desk.

Damn. He should really clean his room before Sawamura visits. If any event were ever important enough to warrant a room-cleaning, it would be this one. That’s another thing to add to his ever-growing checklist of things he needs to accomplish this January.

But as he hears Sawamura’s comforting laugh again, right against his ear and yet still too many kilometers away, Kuroo thinks all this trouble might just be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you, probably: So when do they actually get to college?
> 
> me, nervously: Soon! Soonish. Okay, it's not until chapter 8, but...we're getting there...
> 
>    
> Anyhow, please feel free to reach out if you need to talk! Best wishes to you all.


	6. Chapter 6

The cold kiss of the winter air on Kuroo’s cheeks and eyelashes is welcome after the long hours he just spent cooped up in a room with hundreds of other people all scribbling away industriously in hopes of securing a spot at the university. He huddles next to a bare tree while he waits for his companion; he hadn’t been able to locate Sawamura in the large hall, but they'd agreed on a meeting spot yesterday evening. As he waits, he tries to figure out where his labs might be located if he gets accepted into Kaimei. There's too many paths winding off the quad to the numerous buildings spreading along the street, so he hunches over to preserve warmth as he kicks at the frozen ground, trying to loosen a rock jutting out of the cold dirt. He's feeling fairly good about his performance today, but he doesn't want to get overconfident when he still has one exam remaining a few days from now.

After several minutes of growing too cold to be comfortable and futilely stubbing his toe on the rock still firmly embedded in the ground, Kuroo finally notices Sawamura trudging out of the crowd. He's chatting with two others: a brunet with glasses and a slightly shorter boy with keen eyes and sturdy arms. They look vaguely familiar to Kuroo, and though he can't place a name to the faces, he's pretty sure they must also play volleyball. Sawamura straightens a bit when he sees Kuroo waving at him, and turns back to bid goodbye to his friends. The wavy-haired brunet bumps Sawamura with a shoulder, looking altogether too sly as he says something Kuroo can't hear from this far away. Their friend rolls his eyes in response, clapping Sawamura on the back with a hearty smack, sending him stumbling forward with a step.

They say their goodbyes, sending Sawamura on his way before fading back into the crowd. He's bundled up in a thick coat and a pale green scarf, but his cheeks are a ruddy pink from the cold, and plumes of condensation escape from his lips. Kuroo wonders if he's still as hot to the touch as ever, or if winter has ultimately left its mark behind.

“No wonder you're cold, you forgot your mittens,” Sawamura says reproachfully when he reaches Kuroo’s tree and sees him rattling out of his skin.

“It's fine, I have deep pockets.” Kuroo jangles his arms with his shivering hands buried in his coat pockets, but Sawamura frowns.

“Show me your hands,” he commands, and Kuroo complies reluctantly, drawing his freezing hands out. Sawamura strips his gloves off, tucking them under one arm as he firmly takes Kuroo’s hands between his own. Kuroo has a split second to register that yes, Sawamura is still delectably warm, before the other boy starts rubbing briskly up and down. The friction is certainly lending him some much needed heat, but the rough scrape of Sawamura’s palms against his skin is also kind of painful.

“Ow. Thanks, but- ouch. Are you trying to make it hurt?”

“No, sorry, here.” Sawamura lets Kuroo’s now heated hands go and turns to root around in his bag. He finds and presents to Kuroo a spare set of orange gloves. Kuroo puts them on, squinting in disapproval at the obnoxious color.

“Is this the only color you have?”

“Do I look like a department store? C’mon, let's get on the bus before you get hypothermia.”

Kuroo leads him to the bus stop, and while they wait for their ride to arrive, he asks, “Those two guys - were they the friends you traveled up with?”

“Oh, Oikawa and Iwaizumi? Yeah, we realized that we were all taking today's test at the very least, so we figured we might as well board at the inn together.” Sawamura jogs lightly in place, trying to keep the cold at bay. “They're each taking another test tomorrow, so they'll depart then. Though, I’m pretty sure they also each have recruitment offers from a bunch of different good colleges, even from Kaimei probably, so I’m not sure what their deal is. They're from Aobajousai,” he remembers to tell Kuroo as an afterthought.

“Right, I thought they looked familiar! I heard Aobajousai’s a strong school. Would've liked to play against them,” Kuroo laments, and Sawamura raises an eyebrow.

“Over Karasuno?”

“Of course not,” Kuroo says, waving his gloved hands defensively, and Sawamura laughs at him.

They sit next to one another on the bus, Sawamura taking the window seat with his pack resting on his knees. They chat about the test during the ride, comparing answers and amplifying each other's stress whenever they have conflicting results, until Kuroo decides the topic is off-limits and forces them to talk about something stupid instead. Sawamura tells him about the farewell gifts his underclassmen gave him and his fellow seniors, going into great detail about the embarrassing trench coat Azumane received.

“There's a phoenix embroidered on the back in red and gold. The coat goes to Asahi’s ankles, and I'm pretty sure it used to belong to a literal gangster. Noya made him wear it home. It's totally hideous,” Sawamura relays cheerfully, showing Kuroo a video of his second years forcing the coat on a flailing Azumane.

“Poor guy. No wonder people are scared of him.”

“He's gonna try and shake his reputation when he gets to college, but I dunno. I don't think it's going to work.”

“What about you? Gonna try and reinvent yourself here in Tokyo?” Kuroo asks.

“What do you think? I can't act to save my life-”

“Liar.”

“-so how do you expect me to pretend to be something I'm not?”

“No, it's not _pretending_ ,” Kuroo stresses. “It's...spinning a new truth. Becoming the new you. Don't you want to be sure your first impression is gonna be a good one?”

Sawamura tilts his head thoughtfully, looking out the window at the chic shops and towering office buildings giving way to smaller stores and neighborhood restaurants. He turns back to Kuroo wearing an expression Kuroo has begun to recognize: face relaxed and neutral, with his lips slightly parted but his brown eyes sparking with interest.

“I dunno, I thought I’d stick with the same game plan I’ve been using so far. Seemed to work okay. You tell me - what’d you think of me when we first met?”

Kuroo blinks at him once before replying without a second thought, “I thought you were dangerous.”

Sawamura’s laugh is startled out of him, like a burst of sunlight. “Dangerous? Seriously?”

“Dead serious. You've got all this,” Kuroo gestures up and down Sawamura’s body with a furrowed brow.

“All this what?” Sawamura asks apprehensively. “Are you saying I look wide?!” He pinches at his own waist, aghast, and Kuroo has to hide a smile as he finishes his sentence.

“-this harmless country yokel exterior that lulls people into a false sense of security.”

Sawamura goes from nervous to dry in a flash. “Yokel, wow. Thanks a ton.”

“But meanwhile, your brain’s working overtime, sizing us up, watching over your team, thinking over your strategies. You're really scary, Sawamura.”

“Okay, ‘scary’ I’ve heard before from the underclassmen. But, if anything, _you’re_ the dangerous one, with your shiny fake smiles and hidden moves.”

“Pfff, like you have any room to talk! You were sparkling just as hard, if not more. And _I_ am innocent and harmless.”

“Who’s the liar now? You’ve done me a great deal of harm. Personally and professionally.” Sawamura shudders just slightly.

Kuroo’s sigh is drawn out and mournful. “Again, I’m sorry about the jello. I didn’t realize your second years were so...much. So much, on every level.” That particular provocation (carried out longdistance via Hinata) had been more of an act of biological warfare than subtle instigation, made worse by the rest of the crows. After that, they settled on a temporary truce until after exams. On large scale attacks, at least. They've still been getting in weekly jibes at each other over text.

“They are,” Sawamura sighs as well. “I mean, they’re great, really, but still...I can’t seem to stop worrying.”

“Retirement blues? Thought it would be a relief, no longer being responsible for those problem first-years of yours.” Already, a few more gray strands have sprouted up among Sawamura’s dark hair since Spring High.

“It's not a relief when I can hear the chaos from two blocks away. Ennoshita’s doing his best; he's going to be a fantastic captain, but he's still finding his groove. Tanaka’s a solid vice-captain, but he still gets tetchy when he sees anything he considers disrespectful to his team. Even when it comes from his other teammates. I saw Narita trying to restrain him the other day, but I don't think he has the hang of it yet.” Sawamura sinks wearily back into his seat, and Kuroo thinks back to all the times he witnessed him trying to rein Tanaka in.

“Stop peeking into the gym windows, you creeper.”

“It’s hard to break a habit,” Sawamura admits, with a faint smile, and Kuroo has to agree. Most days, he still finds himself mentally preparing to play before remembering that he’s actually going to the library to study. He’s had to manually reset himself whenever his body tries to enter the gymnasium in response to hearing Yamamoto’s shouts or instinctively begins herding Kenma down to practice. Looks like neither of them have quite moved on yet.

 

They disembark once the bus reaches Kuroo’s neighborhood. They pace their walk between brisk and leisurely: fast enough that they make good time to their destination, but not so fast that Kuroo can’t play tour guide again.

“Oh, that’s the best fried chicken joint around here. They have a great honey sauce. And over thataway is the local shrine. Kai lives like half an hour away but he still likes to come to this convenience store for their pre-packaged bento sometimes. And that’s a pigeon.” Sawamura watches as the bird Kuroo’s pointing at scurries off into the bushes.

“I see the quality of your tours hasn’t dropped since last time,” he says with a smile, bumping Kuroo with his elbow.

“I’ve got way more pigeons to show you if you upgrade to the premium package.”

“Sorry, I can’t afford that,” Sawamura pushes Kuroo’s hand back down when he holds it out expectantly.

“Cheapskate.”

Kuroo stops them in front of a pale yellow building with a large front window, and as Kuroo expected, Sawamura lights up when he takes notice of what’s inside.

“This is…” Sawamura’s eyes flicker up to the sign hanging over the door, then back to Kuroo, grinning. “A _dog_ cafe? Are you even allowed to be here?”

Kuroo smirks as he opens up the quaintly painted door. “I was always more of a dog person.”

Twenty minutes later, with his iced Americano dripping condensation down his arm and onto the black poodle monopolizing his lap, Sawamura purses his lips, observing Kuroo in awe.

“You weren’t kidding about the dog person thing, were you?”

Kuroo, splayed on the ground and buried under three different dogs, shakes his head. He carefully pets the shiba dozing off on his right leg. His lower body has gone numb, but he doesn’t want to disturb any of his canine friends.

“I’d get one myself, but my dad’s allergic, and I’m about to leave for college anyway. So I hang out here instead. No one usually wants to come with though,” he says. On occasion, he can wrangle Kenma isto accompanying him, especially since the special apple turnovers here are so good. “Yakkun says I’m a traitor.”

“He’s not wrong,” Sawamura replies. Lifting the poodle off of him, he collects Kuroo’s empty cup and their plates and gestures at the counter. “Let me grab you some water, since it looks like you’re gonna be occupied for a while.”

“Thanks, dude,” Kuroo calls as yet another puppy ambles up for his attention. From deep in his pocket he feels a rumble, and very gingerly, he manages to unearth his arm from his pile of dogs and get out his phone.

from owl b there 4 u: (11:22) _yoooo u free 2 go c that new haunted haunted house movie_  
(11:22) _in 3D?!_  
(11:23) _i got a coupon 4 a free popcorn!!!!_  
(11:23) _u think i can catch it in my mouth with my eyes closed???_

(11:24) **you most definitely can bro**  
(11:24) **but maybe another time**

(11:25) _awwww u sure??_  
(11:25) _onaga says the fake ghosts look just like real ghosts and the real ghosts look like people_

(11:26) **wait so what do the people look like?**

(11:26) _they also look like ppl_  
(11:26) _its confusing_

(11:27) **well damn**  
(11:27) **sounds cool dude but i’m busy today**

Kuroo cranes his neck around to see that his companion has been sidetracked at the other end of the cafe, besotted by the beagle running circles around him. Kuroo’s ice water is melting in Sawamura’s hand as he smiles dumbly at the dog. It’s the goofiest expression Kuroo has ever seen him make. Amazing. He knew this would a good call.

(11:28) _ooooo i forgot abt ur big date!!!!!!!_  
(11:28) _hope ur showin sawamura a good time_  
(11:28) _dont make tokyo look bad!_  
(11:29) _:)))))_

(11:29) **of course i am, bo**  
(11:29) **what kind of hack do you take me for**

He sends a blurry photo of himself being squashed by dogs and returns to petting the mutt crushing his chest. A shadow falls over him, and he looks up to see Sawamura hovering. The corner of his mouth is twitching as he hands Kuroo his glass of water, which he currently cannot physically drink from without drenching his whole face.

“What? Jealous you don’t have this level of dog charm?” Kuroo asks. He accidentally splashes water on his shirt, but pretends the damp spots don't bother him.

Sawamura sits back down on his wooden chair, still looking amused by Kuroo. “It's impressive, but no. I'm just glad, I guess. I got to learn something new about you today.”

For too many seconds Kuroo stares at him, nonplussed. Then, fighting through the dryness of his throat (and wishing desperately he could drink the stupid beverage in his hand), he hacks out, “Well, you know, I’m not surprised. I am a profoundly complex person. Lots of layers and shit. Super deep.”

“I can see that,” Sawamura laughs. He reaches down to scratch between the ears of the poodle mix on Kuroo’s stomach. “It’ll take me ages to unravel all your mysteries. I should ask Bokuto or Kozume if it's really worth all the time and trouble.”

Kuroo’s fake gasp turns into a wheeze when the poodle decides to stand up on his stomach and trot over to Sawamura. “Of course I’m worth it,” he puffs out as Sawamura chokes on his laughter. His pitiful situation increases tenfold as the rest of his canine crew evacuate his person when a small group of children enters the shop, and he’s left lying there, bedraggled and abandoned.

“I’m already too invested to quit at this point,” Sawamura agrees. From the cold hardwood floor, Kuroo sees him at a skewed angle, half upside-down and lit from above by the thin, pendulous lamps. His hair is overdue for a trim, the fringe falling low on his forehead, and there’s a small scar Kuroo’s never noticed before right above the bridge of his nose, probably from a volleyball injury. From down here it's easy to see the gap where Sawamura’s missing tooth should be, but its absence isn't too eye-catching unless you're really paying attention. That dotty smile is back, but even so, the tiny wrinkle between Sawamura’s eyebrows never really goes away. A semi-permanent mark of stress.

Kuroo thinks it might never fade, but it doesn’t mar his appearance in any way. If anything, it draws attention to his eyes: deep and warm, and at times frighteningly observant. Kuroo finds himself staring without meaning to.

Sawamura’s attention is diverted from the dog in his lap by the rattling of ceramic plates as another customer passes by. His gaze catches on Kuroo and Kuroo quickly looks away, suddenly unable to stand the thought of meeting his eyes. Abruptly, he sits up and takes a gulp of his water. It's as refreshing as he expected, but he still feels dehydrated and hot. Maybe he needs a sports drink.

Restlessness pulls at him, so he tells Sawamura he needs to go buy Kenma a snack and scuttles away as coolly as possible. He spends a long time scouting the pastry display, pretending he isn't sure which to choose while he watches Sawamura from the corner of his eye.

He’s looking out the window at something across the road while absently stroking his dog’s fur. He seems relaxed, but his face is meditative, and Kuroo wishes he knew what he was thinking about. Is he having fun? Is he worrying about something again? Does it have anything to do with Kuroo?

Sawamura’s phone lights up and he glances down, rolling his eyes at whatever he sees. With quick fingers he shoots back a reply and returns to people watching again. Kuroo takes this as a sign to finally purchase an apple turnover for Kenma. While the cafe employee rings him out, he checks his own phone for Bokuto’s response that he never read.

(11:30) _ok have fun_  
(11:30) _dont screw around 2 much_  
(11:31) _i kno u guys have ur little war goin on_  
(11:31) _but u dont wanna take things 2 far bro_  
(11:31) _n get urself in 2 trouble_  
(11:32) _neway tell sawamura i said hi :)_

Kuroo rereads the messages, wondering when Bo started fancying himself a voice of reason. He's just as trouble-prone as Kuroo is, and equally as resistant to reform, so why’s he suddenly trying to tell Kuroo to step on the brakes? Sure, at first glance Sawamura doesn't seem the type to play along with Kuroo’s games, and perhaps Bokuto’s just concerned about him, but Kuroo knows better. He knows firsthand how feisty Sawamura is, and how persistent he is in the face of defeat. This battle between them is far from over.

Kuroo respects the hell out of Bokuto, but this time around, his friend doesn't know what he's talking about. Kuroo has this under control. And if things do start to get out of hand, he’ll be responsible and stop. He always does.

But it’s not going to come to that. Not when he and Sawamura are just having some well-earned fun.

\--

“So where to next?”

Sawamura walks alongside Kuroo, watching the sky warily as a wispy snowfall begins. He holds his bag strap as he walks, which, with his eyes wide and attentive to every inane remark Kuroo supplies him about the local sights, makes him look like a nature scout. It’s...cute, Kuroo would say, in an objective, impartial way. Just a thing he notices, not a judgment indicative of any particular personal feelings Kuroo might have. Totally neutral.

“You’ll see!” he replies, blithely aware of how annoying it is when he acts cryptic. Sawamura rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but follows along. After the dog cafe, they had wandered around the mall Nekoma frequents in their free time. It's a mild walk back to Kuroo’s house from here, but he decides to take Sawamura on a detour for his own amusement.

They walk for ten minutes before Kuroo sneaks into his companion’s space and raises his arms up. He receives a weird glance, that deepens when he reaches around Sawamura’s neck.

“Are you- wait, don’t put me in a chokehold again!”

“Hug, Sawamura. That was a hug, and this is me trying to cover your eyes. I’m about to show you something special. Don’t wanna ruin the big surprise, do you?”

“You _suck_ at hugging,” Sawamura mutters, but he allows Kuroo to slide his gloved hands over his eyes.

“Can you still walk?” Kuroo asks, because now they’re standing in an awkward position, with Kuroo practically embracing Sawamura and his shoulder bag from behind. He doesn’t want to cause the other boy to trip and knock the rest of his teeth out. That would be a national tragedy.

“Let’s see…” They take a few hesitant steps, but their feet keep bumping, and Kuroo almost puts out Sawamura’s eye when they stumble over an uneven path. He tries to watch the ground, but winds up concentrating on Sawamura’s legs instead, which isn’t helpful at all.

“Whoa, alright, maybe this isn’t gonna work,” he says, straining to keep his arms stretched around broad shoulders as they scuffle along.

“Okay, how about this instead?” Sawamura lifts Kuroo’s hands from his face and presses his own hand to his eyes. With his free left hand, he takes hold of Kuroo’s wrist. “You lead me. Promise I won’t look.”

“Hm, if you really promise, then I’ll allow it,” Kuroo responds, tugging him forward. They walk slowly, keeping the distance between them short, and true to his word, Sawamura never peeks. Kuroo’s wrist starts to ache from the odd angle Sawamura’s hand forces it into, which is the sole reason why he readjusts his grip so that they’re holding hands instead. It’s simply more comfortable. That’s the only reason.

Kuroo takes care to walk along a clear path, avoiding tree roots and cracks in the pavement, and Sawamura follows his lead confidently, hand firmly anchored in Kuroo’s. A strange gratitude for the cold weather hits Kuroo as he pulls Sawamura along. On a warmer day, neither of them would be wearing gloves, and he’d have to deal with the searing touch of Sawamura’s bare skin against his.

Finally, they arrive at Kuroo’s surprise pitstop. “Well, here we are!” Kuroo announces grandly and taps Sawamura on the forehead. He unlatches their hands and steps away, willing himself not to shiver from the loss of heat and the sudden rush of wind blustering around them. In his regret, he almost misses the beautiful transformation of Sawamura’s expression from a light excitement to instant, incredulous bewilderment as he takes in their surroundings.

“Kuroo. Did you just bring me to a _literal pile of garbage_?”

“Thought maybe you missed home, so…”

“You total jackass,” Sawamura laughs, pushing Kuroo toward the heap of refuse. “This is what I get for coming all this way to visit you?”

Kuroo puts his hand daintily to his chest as he backs up toward the small mountain of trash. “What? Don’t you want to claim your throne?” With a grand sweep of his arms, he presents a mound of plastic bags puffed up full of broken plastic toys, shattered lightbulbs, and distorted umbrella frames. Pickup isn’t until next week. Sawamura squints at the dump by the telephone pole a block from Kuroo’s house.

“I think I’m okay.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that. This way, your majesty,” Kuroo croons, holding his hand out as he bows low. Sawamura snorts as he takes the proffered hand, letting Kuroo lead him to the edge of the trash.

“I’m not sitting on someone’s non-burnables, Kuroo,” he says with a stern glare, but his mouth is starting to crease with a laugh.

Kuroo makes a face. “You’d rather sit in the compost? Gross.”

Sawamura lets go of his hand to shove him again. Leaning up against the telephone pole, he nudges a bag with his foot, wrinkling his nose when it rolls over. “You know, I think I actually want to go see the Skytree after all. It must be miles better than this.”

“So picky. _This_ is why you can't get a date, my friend.” Kuroo shakes his head, fixing on his best look of pity. He sticks his hands back in his pockets, at a loss for what to do with them now.

“Of course, how did I not see it before? My resistance to burrowing around in garbage is really unattractive.”

“You're a work in progress; let's just put it that way. But with my help, you'll be dazzling hotties left and right.”

Sawamura’s laugh reappears and Kuroo thinks blankly to himself that he doesn't think he’ll ever get sick of the sound.

“I know that's supposed to be a good thing, but to be honest, it just sounds tiring. I think one hottie is good enough for me. He doesn't even have to be that hot.”

“Now, don't resign yourself to settling. I'll find you someone perfect. 10 out of 10.”

The usually tired creases around Sawamura’s eyes deepen when he smiles. “That’s a tall order. Can you really pull it off?”

“Sawamura Daichi, what did I tell you about doubting me? Do. Not. Do. It.”

Kuroo jabs him in the chest for emphasis. He’s rewarded with a little “oof” noise as air escapes Sawamura’s lungs and the other boy surrenders.

“Okay, gotcha, I’ll put my trust in the KurooCorp matchmaking service. I hope it’s as good as the KurooCorp tour service.”

“It’s even better!” Kuroo exclaims, using bluster to cover up the fact that he actually has made no headway as a wingman. Sawamura is still as single as ever. Not that being single is a bad thing. Sawamura doesn't even seem to care, too focused on his studies and worrying about his friends and his underclassmen and whether or not he'll ever grow again. But Kuroo cares, which is weird, maybe, but whatever, he made a promise, and Kuroo Tetsurou doesn't break promises.

“Anyway,” he says, forging on, “if you’re really not going to enjoy your special surprise, then we should move on. Let us retire to my humble abode.”

There’s a dusting of snow gathering on their heads and shoulders by the time they reach Kuroo’s house. Sawamura’s teeth are chattering and Kuroo’s hunching in on himself in a sad plea for warmth against winter. With shaky hands, Kuroo unlocks the front door and they shove at one another with listless force in an attempt to enter the house first. Kuroo wins by a hair, but he has to make a rather pathetic dive to do so.

Kuroo’s parents are both thankfully out at work, but Kenma is nestled in the couch with his legs criss-crossed under a pillow, his old PSP in hand.

“Oh, Kuro. Sawamura-san, hello,” he greets before looking back down at his game.

“Kozume! How's your new leadership position treating you?” Sawamura asks brightly as Kuroo helps him take off his bag.

“It's exhausting,” Kenma responds quietly, grimacing at his screen. “But it's fine. We're still training, and Tora and Lev have been working hard at recruitment.”

Kuroo, in the middle of hanging up Sawamura’s coat, tries to make eye-contact with Kenma, to demand of him when he became so friendly, but the blond is too busy to pay him any attention.

Sawamura neatly lines his sneakers up on the shoe rack as he answers. “That's great! Hinata and the others are really looking forward to training with you again in the spring.” He smiles at Kenma, who offers the faintest of Kenma-smiles back, leaving Kuroo to boggle at both of them.

“Kuro, turn your face off,” Kenma tells him as they enter the living room, before sliding down to the kotatsu. Kuroo tosses over the apple turnover he bought for Kenma, and they join him around the kotatsu, trying to warm up. Kenma begins nibbling at the corner of his pastry, careful not to drop flakes everywhere. His eyes flick back and forth several times between the table and Sawamura, who has half-dozed off in bliss from the heat.

“How was the test?” he ventures to ask, startling a bit when Sawamura opens his eyes and answers, even though he's the one who asked the question.

“Not as bad as it could have been. Right, Kuroo?”

Kuroo shrugs while he kicks at Kenma’s knees under the blanket. “Who knows? Maybe I passed, or maybe you’ll get to enjoy my company for another full year. Wouldn’t that be exciting?” He grins widely.

Kenma’s face flashes between horrified and thoughtful a few times, seemingly unsure of how he should feel. Sawamura shakes his head, elbowing Kuroo in the ribs, and turns back to Kenma. “Ignore him. He did brilliantly, I’m sure, and you’ll be free of him soon enough. Have hope.”

Kenma stops eating to press his mouth flat as he considers Sawamura’s words, before he nods, convinced. “You’re right. Kuro’s really clever and he works hard, but he can be an idiot, so please watch out for him at college, Sawamura-san.” The obvious response from Kuroo is an indignant yap, but Sawamura’s mouth quirks into grin, and he makes a little bow.

“Well, if we end up at the same school, I’ll do the best that I can.”

Kenma observes them both for a moment before his pupils sharpen in that miniscule way that only Nekoma members notice. He’s analyzing them for whatever reason, and once he’s satisfied, he ducks his head back slightly in response to Sawamura’s bow and continues eating his turnover.

Once they defrost, Sawamura excuses himself to make a call, and Kuroo goes to pour Kenma a glass of milk. The blond follows him into the kitchen and goes to fuss with the plants on the sill: a gift from him to Kuroo’s parents for an anniversary of theirs a few years ago. Kuroo’s dad dotes on them, always watering them in the morning as he drinks his morning coffee, and singing to them at night while he cooks dinner. Kenma tucks an overgrown shoot back into its pot, away from the sauce bottles it’s dipping down over.

“Since when were you so open to talking to new people?” Kuroo asks after putting the carton of milk away and sliding the cup over to Kenma. He lets go of the fridge door, dropping his arm into place and feeling awkward for some reason. It's like some bizarre meet-the-family type situation, and though he should be glad they're getting along, he mostly just feels anxious that things are changing beyond his control. Not that he’s unhappy by any means that Kenma’s become leagues more sociable than when they were kids, but it’s another reminder that in a just a few months, everything will be different.

It used to be that some days, he’d look at Kenma and it’d be like no time had passed at all. They were still the same two weird kids they were when they met, just a little taller, and a little bit better at volleyball. And other days, he’d catch sight of his best friend and marvel at how far they’ve come. But no matter how they’ve changed, Kenma has always been there, and soon, he won’t be. And as much as Kuroo worries about how Kenma will do without him, he can’t help the secret fear that hides in his heart that without him in the way, Kenma will flourish. That Kuroo will turn out to be an obstacle Kenma was waiting to overcome.

He’s logical enough, and secure enough in their relationship to know that can’t be true, but sometimes, the heart can’t be reached by reason.

But Kenma doesn’t even bother shrugging in response to his question, less uncomfortable than Kuroo for once. He lifts his golden eyes to peer at Kuroo with unusual patience as he sips his milk. “I trust people you trust,” he explains. “You like Sawamura-san a lot. So he must be okay.” He returns to placidly drinking his milk.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. He's a nice guy.” Kenma makes an agreeable noise, and the conversation ends there. Because Kenma has always trusted Kuroo’s judgment, just as Kuroo has always depended on Kenma’s counsel, and that’s the way things will always be.

Kuroo’s relieved, but back to looking at his own hands, feeling like he should be doing something. Like spiking a ball, or doing laps around the school, or even Karasuno’s favorite flying falls. Something productive, something orderly and with meaning, because more often than not these days, it feels like his life is starting to grow faster than he can control it. Everyone’s growing up. Everyone’s moving on. And he’s pretty sure he is too, but he can’t shape his life as easily as he can shape a match.

Kuroo registers Sawamura entering the kitchen, and thinks, _another uncontrolled variable_. Something else unpredictable, incalculable, despite Sawamura’s reliability, and this too is daunting. But in this case, he finds himself intrigued instead of anxious.

“You okay? You look out of sorts,” Sawamura says, concerned, and Kuroo slips on his best casual expression. There’s nothing here to stress about. It’s just Sawamura. Kuroo knows this game well. The rest will follow.

“Sorry, just excited to lead you on yet another grand tour. You ready?”

Kenma remains planted at the kitchen table, engrossed again in his game, and Kuroo leads Sawamura around the house, feeding him pointless anecdotes both embarrassing and mundane, but besides his sometimes snarky comments, Sawamura seems to enjoy Kuroo’s stupid stories.

Eventually, they make their way to Kuroo’s bedroom, and there’s a sudden pain as Kuroo’s stomach seizes right before he turns the handle. The lurch in his gut causes him to falter against his door for a second.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should lie down and take a rest, old man,” Sawamura says, as Kuroo lets them in. “I can show myself around if you want. I’m sure I can dig up dirt on you even without your help.”

“You’re just trying to get me into bed,” Kuroo accuses. “I don’t think so, buddy.”

“Noted. Dinner and a movie first,” Sawamura jokes as he crouches down to look at the photos on Kuroo’s disheveled bookcase.

“At the very least. Remind me not to let you plan your first date on your own. You’ll tank it.”

“That’s probably true. Hey,” he says, lifting a picture in a plain wooden frame with careful hands. “Is this when you guys were first years?”

It’s a picture of Kuroo and his fellow seniors, back when they were fresh-faced and pure. Kai is in the middle, an arm around his and Yaku’s shoulders, holding them close. They’re standing in front of the gym doors, all of them smiling, though Kuroo remembers that he and Yaku had been quibbling about some inconsequential argument just minutes before. He can’t recall what it had been about, but he does remember the way Kai had made some silly, lighthearted joke right before the photo was taken, finally getting a laugh out of the two of them.

“Yeah,” Kuroo says fondly, taking the picture from Sawamura to look at it more closely. “This was the day before Interhigh, and we wanted to get a group pic before our first real game. God, that feels like a decade ago now.”

“It’s a good picture. Somehow you guys look both exactly the same and ridiculously young.” Sawamura traces the glass with the pad of his finger, brushing along the curve of young Kuroo’s surprised smile.

Kuroo studies his friends’ faces, trying to pinpoint exactly when they grew into the people he knows now. “You think so?”

“Your goofy hair is the same, but you’ve still got a bit of a baby-face. Kai especially, wow. I bet you were a handful.” Sawamura moves onto another shelf, looking over Kuroo’s non-fiction collection and a later picture, taken last year. This one’s only of Kenma’s class, resting on the bench after practice.

“I mean, we weren’t delinquents or anything, but I guess you can’t say we didn’t cause any trouble for our senpai. What about you?” Kuroo asks as he hands Sawamura the book he was eying. “You three - besides the begging for extra practice and gym time - were total angels, weren’t you? I know you’re a bunch of incurable punks now, but I know you must have all been goody-two-shoes back in your first year.”

“Haha, well, why don’t you judge for yourself?” Sawamura unlocks his phone and scrolls way back until he finds an album, and hands it to Kuroo to look through while he reads the blurb on Kuroo’s book.

There are some thumbnails of Sugawara and Azumane among some alumni that Kuroo doesn’t recognize, so he keeps looking until he finds a picture with all three of them and opens it up. Immediately, he has to choke back an undignified sound.

All of them look barely old enough to be in high school, even Azumane, despite already towering over his teammates. Suga is bright, with a fluttery sort of nervousness around him, instead of the easy, mischievous nature Kuroo’s used to. Azumane’s hair is short and his face clean-shaven, and it makes him seem much more innocent. But Sawamura.

First year Sawamura is _painfully_ cute. He's much shorter than he is now, and his face is rounded and soft, making his dark eyes seem even wider than usual. He's beaming earnestly at the camera, and clutching a volleyball to his chest with both hands like he's afraid he'll drop it. Already, Kuroo can see the straightness of the posture that he carries himself with now, and the beginnings of that captainly glow in his eyes, but overall, he still looks incomparably precious. Kuroo can't look at the picture for more than fifteen seconds without feeling like he ought to throw himself out the window into the snow below.

“Holy shit, look at you guys,” he mutters. “You’re adorable. I fucking knew it. Look at your squishy face.”

Sawamura chuckles and swipes his phone back. He's already neatly replaced Kuroo’s book. “You don't know how glad I was when I finally developed an actual, visible jawline and relatives stopped pinching my cheeks all the time. That was great.”

As if possessed, Kuroo automatically raises his hands to try to pinch, but Sawamura sees it coming and fends him off. Kuroo stubbornly attacks with his pincers several more times, trying to box him in, but Sawamura’s blocks are as solid as ever.

After getting chased to the corner next to Kuroo’s desk, Sawamura resorts to grabbing the ruler lying among his pencils and jabbing at the encroaching hands the next time Kuroo tries. Eyes narrowed, he gives Kuroo a light smack on the head, though his hair catches all the impact. “You're doing it again, you provocation addict. Didn't we agree on a truce?” he demands.

“Truce off,” Kuroo tells him mildly and disarms him before he can respond. The ruler goes flying, Sawamura snaps to his full height (still half a head shorter than Kuroo), and Kuroo’s cat smile grows. There they remain at a standstill for ten seconds, eyes locked on one another, until Sawamura blitzes Kuroo at the exact same moment he tries again for a headlock. They go down like a landslide.

“Oof. Foul; that's a foul,” Kuroo groans. Sawamura had headbutted him square in the chest before getting thrown to the side by Kuroo’s flailing arm, causing Kuroo to hit the ground hip first. His head had bounced down soon after.

“No personal fouls in volleyball,” Sawamura grumbles into his elbow, which is digging into Kuroo’s neck. He's lying flat on his stomach, one leg somehow tangled on Kuroo’s desk chair. They look sideways at one another, taking in the stupidity of it all, and melt into muffled laughter; Kuroo rolls to his feet and helps heft Sawamura back up.

They sit on the edge of Kuroo’s bed to catch their breath, which is when Sawamura notices his stuffed crow, sitting snug under the covers. Oddly enough, there’s also a protractor and stress ball hiding there, which leads them on a short treasure hunt for the junk Kuroo forgot to clean up from in and under his bed the other day. The pile of lost objects gets dumped on Kuroo’s desk to be dealt with later, except for a pair of Kuroo’s Nekoma trackpants that he goes to hang up in his closet.

Sawamura lifts an eyebrow when he sees the parts of Kuroo’s neatly pressed school uniform hanging within easy reach, especially the sweater vest and blazer. “Nice uniform. It doesn't suit you at all,” he comments, and Kuroo pouts.

“Excuse you, it fits my image perfectly. Kind, pristine, scholarly. Don't pick on me just because you never learned how to tie a tie.” He yanks his necktie off the rack and dangles it in Sawamura’s face like a cat toy, twitching it back and forth to irritate him.

He receives a roll of the eyes before Sawamura snatches the tie from his hands and loops it around Kuroo’s neck. With steady hands he gets to work, and all Kuroo can do is stare at him, frozen in place while Sawamura knots the fabric meticulously around Kuroo’s bare neck, his natural heat leaving phantom wisps on Kuroo’s skin every time his fingers draw near. His movements aren't fluent, but he ends with a straight, neatly proportioned tie that he pats triumphantly, thumping against Kuroo’s chest. The collision kickstarts Kuroo’s heart back into gear, though it stutters a few beats before resuming normal activity.

“You're right, it doesn't look _that_ out of place on you. Who’d have guessed?” Sawamura shoots Kuroo that dry smile he’s come to appreciate over the last few months, and the coiling tension in his chest pulls taut before releasing.

“Always judging me, aren't you?” Kuroo asks wryly. He reaches up and loosens the knot, tugging the tie askew to put it back in his closet. From the corner of his eye, he catches Sawamura tracking the motion, his gaze trailing along Kuroo’s throat, down to the messy loop of the tie and Kuroo’s long fingers wrapped around the wine red fabric. For a split second his pupils dilate when their eyes meet, and an unexpected but not unfamiliar expression crosses his face before he shuts it down. Everything returns to normal except for a hint of red dusting his skin, and the slightly bashful way he looks away before snarking at Kuroo for ruining his hard work.

Huh. Interesting.

Kuroo’s been playing his games long enough to know when not to push, even when his instincts tell him to poke and prod until he gets either an outburst or an answer. So he hangs his tie back up while making some glib comment about teaching Sawamura how to use an iron, even as his brain starts dissecting the previous moment between them frame by frame.

Was that what he thought it was?

Is Sawamura... _attracted_ to him? Or is he reading this completely wrong?

...is it a trap? Sawamura is devious enough to pull a stunt like that if he really wanted to, but something about it seemed too spontaneous and too real to be a ploy, and it doesn't fit his character. Kuroo doesn’t have enough information to make a judgment call, and unfortunately, nothing that happens over the next half an hour betrays a single hint. Things are back to usual: easy banter and the casual air between them that they’re used to.

It was probably just a fluke. A hallucination. But his mind can’t let it go. Kuroo needs to know what it means, even if it is just another provocation back at him.

He can’t help but hope to catch Sawamura looking at him like that again.

\--

Sawamura’s bus leaves in a few hours, so Kuroo takes him on a jaunt around the old hangouts and hideaways he and Kenma used to love when they were younger. They pass by Kenma’s house, currently empty as Kenma is still staying over at the Kuroo house while both his parents are away for business. Kuroo shows off all the places they tried to practice their volleyball skills: Kenma’s yard, the little hill on the way to their elementary school, the rocky steps Kuroo made Kenma jog up and down after school to build his stamina. Sawamura enjoys the view from the riverbank, and they wander up a safe distance from the water to watch the snow dissolve on the surface. It’s still obnoxiously cold, but they jog to keep their heart rates and spirits up, and leave messy tracks through the scant inches of snow that have built up already.

Their travels bring them to the last stop on their tour before Sawamura has to return to the bus terminal. Kuroo leads them through the winding back paths of the neighborhood and they walk huddled close together over the frosted grass and slick roads until they reach the tiny playground of Kuroo’s youth. The structures are made of now worn down wood, still sturdy despite the years. There's only one slide, two swings and a wobbly spinning disk next to the small sandpit, but there are a number of short trees and a stretch of grass that add a touch of green to the park.

“Back in preschool I used to wait here with my grandma for my mom to come home from work. She almost had a heart attack when I fell off the top of the slide. The roundabout was even worse,” Kuroo recalls as he steps onto the disk. “Kenma was scared of this thing for the longest time.” He grips one of the metal handles tight, still wearing Sawamura’s horrible orange gloves.

“I don't blame him. This doesn't look that safe,” Sawamura says, giving the roundabout a dubious look over. However, his doubts don't prevent him from giving the wheel a hard spin while calling, “So don’t let go!” He hops on next to Kuroo right after they begin moving, almost knocking him off balance when he slips a little on the damp wood.

“Whoa!” Kuroo’s pulse jumps as they take off, and his arm shoots out instinctively to catch Sawamura before he takes them both out. They whirl once around quickly, snow blowing all about them in a wintry swirl. Kuroo has his hand clenched around the iron handle, trying to keep them anchored, but there's no need for caution since the wheel slows drastically right after one and a half revolutions, drawing them to a gradual stop after turning only three or four times.

“Hm, that was less fun than I expected,” Sawamura says, slightly disappointed, and Kuroo laughs at the almost frown forming on his face.

“I'm starting to wonder if this ride wasn't meant for 70 kilogram volleyball players,” he teases. His arm is still pressed to Sawamura’s waist, so he withdraws, stepping off the roundabout. “Or maybe your push was weak.”

“Hey, I'm willing to put up with a lot of slander from you, but I know for a _fact_ that I can push like a bulldozer. Tanaka’s told me enough times.”

“Let's see how you feel about that after I take you for a spin. Hold on tight!”

Kuroo gives it his best effort, and leaps gracefully into place beside Sawamura without any wasted movement, but still, the disk only gives them one good spin around before dying out slowly.

“Booooo.” Kuroo gives a thumbs down, then herds Sawamura off the roundabout. “Let’s try the swings instead. No way those don’t work.”

They swipe off the snow as best they can and Sawamura places his bag aside on the cleanest bit of ground he can find. “I can barely fit in this,” he marvels as he squeezes onto the seat of the swing with his legs clamped tight together. He begins to sway in a shallow arc back and forth.

“You're bottom-heavy, bro.” But Kuroo isn’t faring much better, also crammed painfully into his swing. Their swinging is half-hearted, more of a formality than anything. Around them, the wind picks up, the world dressed in a curtain of lace white, picturesque as a snowglobe besides the freezing cold.

Kuroo sneezes as he ascends, and quakes with shivers on his way back down. Sawamura sends him a sympathetic look while wrapping his scarf over a third time.

“You really need to bundle up better,” he chides, reaching over to yank Kuroo’s collar higher. “What if you get sick? Kozume doesn’t have the time to nurse you back to health.”

Laughing at the thought of Kenma trying to feed him porridge, Kuroo wriggles in his seat, trying to settle deeper into his coat. “Same to you. Can’t see your champion hatchlings making you soup without burning down all of Miyagi.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got a strong constitution.”

“Hey, let me worry a little bit about you too. You can’t be the conscientious one all of the time.”

Sawamura rewards him with a quiet laugh and slides his feet through the snow beneath him, drawing crooked lines with his toes. “Thanks, Kuroo.” His eyes are soft, and his smile fond. The snowflakes dancing around them leave an unreal quality in the air, a dream-quiet hush layering through the late afternoon sky.

That bizarre churning starts up in Kuroo’s gut again, making him feel gray and pink both inside and out. “Ugh, what did I tell you doing about that?”

“Suddenly, I can’t seem to remember,” Sawamura says, innocent as a lamb. “But, you know, I really did have a lot of fun today. Thanks for taking the time to entertain me; I know you're crazy busy these days.”

“No problem, man. It was nothing.” Kuroo shrugs it off like rainwater.

But Sawamura shakes his head, staring seriously into Kuroo’s soul. “No, really, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I really mean it.” He says the words slowly, with weight and perfect diction so each sentence can be heard clearly.

“Stop that!” Kuroo groans, and nudges him with his knee to send him vacillating sideways.

“What? I thought you were always this kind. I just wanted to recognize and appreciate that. Is that not allowed? Do you not like receiving praise? Should I stop telling everyone that you're the pinnacle of friendship? The epitome of what a supportive senpai and captain should be? Don't you want me to tell the world that you, Kuroo Tetsurou, are in fact a nice guy?”

Sawamura sounds simultaneously like he's teasing and like he half believes everything he's saying. And he _looks_ like he absolutely knows 100% what his words are doing to Kuroo. Kuroo’s skin prickles with chills. Terrifying.

“When did you become this way? What happened to your pleasant personality?” Kuroo demands.

“Who knows? You've been a bad influence on me; it's probably long gone.” Sawamura sounds way too nonchalant about it as he goes back to swinging in a short, controlled sweep.

“God, Suga’s gonna kill me. I've ruined you. You’re all warped now.” Kuroo hangs his head, overdramatic and despairing.

“Yeah, you sure screwed up this time. I think you should take responsibility for it.”

There's something in Sawamura’s voice - a certain amount of mettle that he always injects into his words when he's preparing to overcome a roadblock. Kuroo’s become better at picking up on it, and hearing it now even though they're just joking around makes him straighten up in his seat.

“Oh? Okay, I’m listening. What can I do to make things right?”

Sawamura doesn't answer right away. With those ridiculously fit legs of his he pumps several times, arcing up high above Kuroo before rushing back down to earth. When he reaches his desired speed and height, he leaps free, taking off through the air. Kuroo watches him soar, memories of their last match against one another returning at the sight, and he imagines for just an instant his crow’s wings spreading, black and triumphant against the frost-gray sky.

There had been countless times in that final match, moments that Kuroo hadn’t had the luxury of appreciating in the heat of battle, that he’d been captivated by the way Sawamura played. The sheer constancy of his receives, the sturdy power of his spikes, and of course his quick footwork: despite the simplicity, there was an elegance to it. Seeing him in midair again, Kuroo can’t help yearning to meet him on the court once more. With him, against him, either way. If only they’d had more chances.

Sawamura lands with muted grace, and backtracks to come stand before Kuroo, who’s now fallen still. It’s weird, Kuroo thinks suddenly, to be looking up at him for once. He’s grown accustomed to adjusting his body around Sawamura’s space to account for their height difference, so it’s refreshing to see him from a different view.

“Kuroo,” Sawamura finally says, after fiddling awkwardly with his gloves before settling on putting his hands in his pockets. He takes a quick little breath and looks Kuroo in the eye to speak. “Come up to Miyagi after you graduate. Bring Kozume if he wants to join you; the two of you can stay with me. It's my turn to show you some hospitality, after everything you've done for us. For me.”

Kuroo remains motionless, blinking up at him while his mouth and brain take a second to reconnect so he can answer. “Yeah, sure, of course. That would be great,” he says, genuine but slightly lost, still playing catch up with the conversation. He rakes his hand through his now damp hair, scattering the melting flurries as he tries to express himself properly. “But I don't want you to think you owe me anything. Any help I might've given you was just, you know. A side effect of friendship. It's nothing I even deserve to be thanked for. Everything that's happened between us...it's not like there were strings attached.”

The seriousness to Sawamura’s face gives way, allowing a hint of reserved affection to show, and Kuroo doesn't fully understand why the next words he thinks are, _this isn't enough_.

“I know,” Sawamura says as he shuffles in place. “You're selfless that way. But I'd like the chance to show you my gratitude. I don't think you’ll ever really understand when I tell you this, Kuroo, but you're…”

Sawamura pauses to worry at his lip with his teeth as he thinks, but after a few seconds he laughs sheepishly and steps away, out of Kuroo’s space.

“Well, let's just say I'm glad I met you,” he says simply, wearing Kuroo’s favorite glass-edged half smile. “So do me this favor. Come visit Miyagi again, as a friend, not a rival.”

Kuroo has too many inopportune questions, and not enough nerve to ask.

_What were you going to say?_

_What am I to you?_

_What do I have to do for you to look at me the way you look at your team?_

He bites down on his tongue, and forces himself to concentrate on Sawamura’s invitation. “Sounds great. After we both graduate, before uni starts. I'll give you the chance to prove yourself even half the host that I’ve been.”

“You’re on.”

Kuroo’s hair is in complete disorder after he mussed it up; Sawamura tugs one of his gloves off and tries to tame the wild strands, combing them down with firm fingers to no avail. They bounce back into place, and Kuroo snickers as Sawamura sighs.

“I've kept you out long enough. I should get to the bus stop, and you should get inside before your hair passes the point of no return.”

“You don't like it? I thought it was kind of stylish,” Kuroo says, framing his face with his hands and putting on his best model’s glare.

“You're growing a nest in there. I'm taking whatever hatches under my protection.”

“That’s fair, since I stole Tsukki from you. Better adopt a new kid to replace him.”

“What do you mean you ‘stole’ Tsukk- Tsukishima?” Sawamura straps his bag back on while directing his dead-eyed glower at Kuroo. “You might’ve trained him, but he’s ours.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of shared custody, babe?”

“You barely even have weekend visitation rights,” Sawamura scoffs. “Back off of my kids, Kuroo.”

“Finally he admits it!” Kuroo announces to the empty park as they head toward the road. “Just in time for me to get my foot in as the cool dad.”

“Suga might take issue with that.”

“Step-dad, then.”

 

By the time they arrive at the bus terminal, the snow has stopped, and most of the streets have been cleared. Sawamura is early, so they stand to wait behind the two other people already in line. They make plans to compare schedules in order to plan Kuroo’s trip, and to report back any successful college admissions they hear about. As the crowd starts to fill out, they say their goodbyes.

“Thanks again for today. Don’t flunk all your finals, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, as long as you promise not to go completely gray before I see you again.”

“I’ll try. Bye, Kuroo,” Sawamura says, clapping him on the arm. He flashes a smile as he advances forward with the line.

“See you later, Sawamura. Have a safe trip home,” Kuroo responds. Sawamura is almost at the door now, so Kuroo backs out of the way of the other passengers. His legs are frozen through and his face frostbitten to hell and back, but he’s warm with a light, floating glow that settles comfortably in his chest.

Just before Sawamura boards, Kuroo realizes that he’s still wearing his awful orange gloves. He’d forgotten to return them. Looking up, he sees Sawamura is next in line, ticket already in hand to turn into the bus driver.

“Hey! Your gloves!” Kuroo calls while pushing through the small clumps of people meandering across his path, waving the gloves in the air to catch Sawamura’s attention.

Sawamura turns in line, spotting Kuroo. He waves back, shouting, “It’s alright, you can keep them. Stay warm! I’ll see you in the spring!”

“In the spring!” Kuroo echoes, and Sawamura gives him a thumbs up before turning back to speak to the driver.

Kuroo waits at the station until Sawamura’s bus departs. Evening is upon him, still gray, still cold, but sunset peeks through the clouds, painting the clouds in faded rose and vermillion, and as Kuroo wanders through the back alleys toward home, he thinks the sky is a good reflection of how he feels right now. Night is falling fast, but he's got too many things to think about to be able to sleep early tonight.

Spring will arrive soon. But Kuroo is going to cling to winter for as long as he can. He can't miss even a single moment before everything changes forever with the season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do they hold hands so much??
> 
> A quick heads up for my Oikawa/Iwaizumi friends: our favorite Seijou duo will be showing up a lot in the future, but they're strictly platonic, for fairly plot-relevant reasons. I'm hoping to still do justice to their friendship though!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for sticking around for this ridiculous story! See you next time!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, friends. We've finally hit the point of no return! Hope it lives up to your expectations!
> 
> Also, a PSA: don't push people into swimming pools! It's dangerous!!  
> 

Despite the clear skies, Kuroo had thought this day would weigh heavier on him. Perhaps it was the dragging lead up, those final days where exams were finally over and there was nothing but the housekeeping and loose ends to be dealt with. Or the wistfulness that settled, unnoticed, in his bones whenever he passed the gymnasium. Even passing the first year hallways had brought back a haze of nostalgia.

But now, he sits in his uniform for the last time surrounded by his peer as their class representative gives her graduation speech. It’s well-written, drawing both laughs and serious nods, and Kuroo is trying to pay attention, and live in the moment, but everything’s starting to blur together as the seconds count down. Earlier, his name had been called, along with every other graduate’s, but that, as well as the school song, had all faded to the background as he soaked in his last glimpses of Nekoma’s walls.

He tunes back in as she's winding down, and when she finishes speaking, the room cascades into drumming applause. Teachers and students alike stand as the principal congratulates their class on graduating, and then it's over. Kuroo is no longer a high school student.

The room is filled with cheers and chatter and some tears as everyone files outside for photos and goodbyes. Kuroo follows the flow, going to find his parents first before he tries to locate his friends in the crowd. Mom is tearing up a little when they hug, but his dad sends him off to take a picture with his homeroom class, telling him they'll find him again afterwards.

Pictures happen. Many of them, and Kuroo smiles, and he poses, and yet the curious sense of disconnection persists, until he sees Kai’s reliable, reassuring outline near the school gates.

“Captain,” Kai says, smiling when Kuroo jogs over.

“Aw, don’t call me that, you’ll break my heart,” says Kuroo. “Where’s our guardian spirit?”

They don't have to wait long for Yaku to appear, with his whole family following behind. Kuroo and Kai greet them warmly, and then Yaku’s older brother snaps a few photos of the three of them before they head out toward where their team is waiting for their final goodbye.

It's solemn as they walk together for the last time.

“That's it, then. We had a good run, didn't we?” Kuroo asks, looking at the blue, blue sky above them. It's an unfairly beautiful day.

“We did,” Kai agrees. “We were really something.”

“We still are.” Yaku stares at his graduation cap, then at their school for a long, yearning moment, before he turns back to them, wearing his signature grin, just as bright as it was three years ago. “You know, I'm gonna miss you guys,” he says, and it's the slight crack in his voice despite his smile that gets to Kuroo. Suddenly, it's all so real. He really has graduated. He really is leaving all this behind.

“Shit, Yakkun, you can't spring that on us so suddenly.”

“I was expecting it,” Kai says, but his walking has slowed, and his normally calm face looks pinched. “I'll never forget this,” he says slowly, deliberately. “Our team, everything we shared, any of it.”

“I should hope not,” Kuroo says, mock-offended, but Kai stares at him straight on with those clear, level eyes of his, always collected, even when nothing else in the world is, and he looks so fond that Kuroo feels it in the hollow of his chest, deep and aching.

“There's not a chance I'll forget how hard you worked for our sake. You were a great captain, Kuroo.”

“He's right,” says Yaku. “Thanks, captain. For doing your best for us. For always being the leader we needed. Thank you.”

It's strange, to look at two people he knows so well and remember both the strangers they had been those years ago, and see the selves they've become because of one another. Even though it feels like it was a lifetime ago that they met, their time together has still run out too soon. Kuroo doesn't want to let them go, but neither does he want to hold them back. He just wants...

...he wants them to understand, that the person he is today was shaped by their presence in his life. He wants to tell them everything they've just told him, but Yaku and Kai are watching him with the patient confidence they always have in him, and he can't do anything more than grasp desperately for whatever words he can.

“That's supposed to be my line, dammit. I'm the one who should be grateful,” he says, and it's the absolute truth. He's known this for years, having learned it on and off the court again and again, that his life was made better by them being a part of it. “Thank you. Thank you for these three years, for everything. Thank you both for making Nekoma the team it is today; _our_ team. I'm so glad it was the two of you. I wouldn't have wanted to do this with anybody else,” he chokes out, and he had sworn to himself and Kenma that he wouldn't cry, because he's not a total softie, but Kai’s eyes are shining too, and Yaku’s yanking him down into a rough hug and suddenly all of three of them are half-sniffling, half-laughing as they embrace.

“You can't give us all the credit, Kuroo,” Yaku tells him, and Kai laughs.

“I think you deserve at least a little recognition,” he says, squeezing Kuroo tight around the shoulders with one arm.

“Let's go say our goodbyes,” Yaku says as they approach their underclassmen, who are waiting dutifully for them by the gymnasium doors.

Lev is the first one to leap forward, and the others all follow after, enveloping the three of them in a group hug. More photos ensue, including a nice team picture, before their long goodbye continues. Eventually, as the crowds disperse, they must separate, but even as they split they all share shouted promises to meet over the summer.

Kenma joins Kuroo’s family for lunch and follows them home afterward, curling up on the couch with him to sleepily watch an old black-and-white film. Kuroo isn't absorbing much of the movie, and his eyes keep drifting closed even though he really hasn't done much at all today. It's as if all his energy drained from his body after bidding his friends goodbye. He's tired, but in a pleasant way. He's tired in the way his bones tell him it's time to rest, and his heart tells him tomorrow is the start of a new day. Next to him, Kenma starts wilting into the cushions.

His body is fighting his urge to sleep, and he keeps dozing off for a few minutes at a time, before shocking himself awake, his brain telling him he needs to get it together and go study, or practice, still unused to the fact that he's finally done. On one such instance, he opens his eyes wide after startling back to consciousness and finds Kenma observing him quietly.

“What's up?” Kuroo slurs out, pretending he doesn't want to just burrow into the couch and take a cat nap. “You wanna change the channel? We can watch a game show instead.” He fumbles around, trying to find the remote, but Kenma shakes his head, and leans against his arm.

“I'm proud of you.”

His words are soft but assured and he knocks their ankles together like he used to do when they were younger. Old resurfacing memories blur together with the present, and Kuroo remembers, like he always does, how much he loves Kenma. It’s like an undercurrent in his veins, and the fondness spikes when he bumps him back and receives that gentle, dry Kenma smile in return.

Ah. Yaku sure said it. Kuroo’s really going to miss this.

“Me too,” Kuroo says around the lump in his throat. “I’m proud of me too.”

Kenma snorts and sticks Kuroo in the side with his cold toes to punish him. They rearrange themselves under the blankets and return to watching the movie, still both on the verge of sleep. With Kenma leaning against his shoulder, Kuroo can feel his heartbeat resonating and it’s that sound – calming and familiar – that finally lulls him to sleep.

\--

The end of March falls in gently with the spring rain, and Kuroo finds himself with more time than he knows what to do with. No more training, no more tests. During previous breaks he’d still be practicing with the team, but now that he’s graduated he spends most of his time goofing off with Bokuto, whiling their vacation away before school begins.

Kuroo had decided on Kaimei once his college acceptances starting coming in, and Bokuto had chosen another university in Tokyo for their environmental science program. Their schools are close enough that they aim to find to find an apartment together, but so far apartment hunting always winds up becoming freestyle adventuring and assorted hijinx whenever they go out alone “without adult supervision,” as Akaashi and Yaku refer to it. The last he spoke to Sawamura about it the other boy hadn't yet decided between the top two schools of his choice, so he let the matter drop, confident that Sawamura would tell him once he decided.

He's leaving for Miyagi tomorrow with Kenma to stay for a few days, but currently, he can't manage to get the last specks of orange and black glitter out of his favorite sweatshirt. Three weeks ago he’d received a letter from Sawamura marked “open outside” and despite knowing there was something up, he'd ripped the envelope open carelessly anyway, scattering glitter all over himself and his front yard. Most had washed out, but even now there are sparkles dotting his sweatshirt that he can't rub away.

Payback had been swift and sweet: a singing telegram hired to meet Sawamura at the school gates right as classes let out for the day, serenading him and his thighs in front of every student who was on their way home. The next week, all of Kuroo’s plain ringtones had been mysteriously replaced by 90s anime opening songs, which had almost startled him into dropping his phone into his bowl of noodles. Of course he had to repay Sawamura by leaking some blackmail material to Azumane and Suga: a series of closeup photos of Sawamura’s vacantly smitten expression as he holds a puppy in the air at the dog cafe.

They've fallen into a tentative truce yet again, though Kuroo knows that all bets are off once he reaches Miyagi. At the very least he has Kenma for a buffer, and he’s learned by now that Sawamura draws the line at doing anything that inconveniences anyone besides Kuroo. With a groan of defeat, he stuffs his shirt in the suitcase anyway, and goes down the rest of his packing list.

The next day is clear and cool, and the two of them grab lunch before setting off. The train ride has barely begun, and Kenma’s already buried his face in his most recent game. Kuroo finds himself mentally going through his checklist of things not to forget as Kenma’s tinny battle music worms its way into his memory. He successfully gets through their packing list before his eyes land on the boxed gift lying on the seat across from him before he starts second guessing himself.

to brohohoho?, cap’n hoot: (4:03) **wait the only gift i brought was a baumkuchen and some train station pastries**  
(4:03) **is that good enough**

from brohohoho?: (4:04) _uh no_  
(4:04) _u didnt grow ur own melon from ur magic crystal tears on the soil of ur forefathers n wrap it in the fabric of the heavens?????_

(4:04) **oh shit i didn’t**

(4:04) _u fucked up_  
(4:05) _game over_

from cap’n hoot: (4:05) He’s right, game over.

(4:05) **fuuuuuuck**

(4:06) I’m sure Sawamura-san and his family will forgive you eventually.

(4:06) _mmm maybe but_  
(4:06) _bro u should give him a ~personal~ gift in case_  
(4:07) _smthg from the ~heart~_

(4:07) Bokuto-san, I thought you were trying to discourage too-annoying-for-his-own-good-Kuroo-san, not egg him on.

(4:07) **hey don't think i didn’t see that**

(4:08) _yeah but i kno kuroo isnt gonna quit_  
(4:08) _so im here 2 give out my ~helpful~ advice instead!!!!_

(4:09) **there’s something awfully sketchy about your ~~~words~~~ bo**

(4:09) _nah dude trust me im an ace at advice_

(4:10) ...........  
(4:10) No comment.

(4:10) _aaaakaaaaaashiiiii!!!!!_

(4:11) Bokuto-san’s questionable help is something you can decide if you need.  
(4:12) But if you want my two cents, I think you should really tone down your battle with Sawamura-san before you go to college.  
(4:12) If you wind up at the same school, this might not end well. Especially if you're playing on the same team.

(4:13) _wow akaaaashi ure already such a smart captn_  
(4:13) _im so proud :))))_

(4:13) Well, I learned a lot from you, Bokuto-san. You were a good teacher.

(4:14) _:DDDDD_

(4:14) **akaashi he's graduated already**  
(4:14) **you don't need to be so diplomatic anymore**

(4:15) _hey!!_

(4:15) **and fyi i am totally in control of the court right now**  
(4:15) **nothing is gonna go wrong**  
(4:16) **we’re just playing around**

(4:16) If that's your choice, then good luck, Kuroo-san.  
(4:16) I’ll be rooting against you.

(4:17) **wtf**  
(4:17) **is there NO loyalty in your miserable soul akaashi**  
(4:18) **we've known each other for over two years and this it what it comes to??**

(4:18) _dont worry bud I gotchu_

(4:18) **i knew you would bro (ﾉ´ з `)ノ♡**

(4:19) _♡ヽ(*°▽°*)ノ_

(4:19) See, you have Bokuto-san’s support. I'm sure you don't need mine as well.

(4:19) **i’m hurt keiji i really am**

(4:19) Duly noted, Kuroo-san. Please try not to ruin your own life.

(4:20) _yeah what he said_  
(4:20) _tell my disciple i said hi!!!!_  
(4:20) _tsukki too!!_

(4:21) **will do boss**

Even though talking to Bokuto usually lifts his spirits, Kuroo still finds himself feeling somewhat on edge as he watches the scenery zoom past in a blur of green and blue. Not quite nervous, but on guard, as if there’s something he anticipates that he hasn’t prepared well enough for. It leaves him unconsciously tapping his hands on his lap.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Kenma says out of the blue, looking away from his battle just long enough to glance at Kuroo’s hands. “Whatever it is, stop letting it bother you.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t even know what ‘it’ is. I just feel like something’s gonna happen, and I’m not ready.”

Kenma shrugs, and shifts around in his seat so their knees are touching: his silent way of showing his support. “You can’t always account for everything, Kuro. You’ll just have to wait and see what you’re in for before you make a plan.” He goes back to ignoring Kuroo in favor of his game, and Kuroo sighs, knowing that he’s right. He should just relax for now.  


  


After that, the ride passes peacefully, Kuroo occupied with his latest sci-fi novel and Kenma pausing his game only to eat snacks. They arrive about two hours later and trundle out with their rolling luggage, met with the sight of Sawamura waiting in the lot, leaning against an older car. He waves at them cheerily and they weave through the loose crowd over to his parking spot.

“You can drive?” Kuroo asks, surprised.

“Better than you can,” Sawamura says, twirling his keys around his finger. “I wasn't going to make you walk from the station all the way to my house. It’d take you an hour.” He takes Kenma’s suitcase first, and loads it up while Kenma gets in the backseat.

“I thought you'd be the biking type,” Kuroo tells him while shoving his own baggage into the trunk.

“You want me to pedal while holding both of you and your bags? I'm not _that_ strong.” Sawamura gives Kuroo a push toward the passenger side door.

“Bokuto could,” Kuroo counters, and Sawamura rewards him with an incredulous laugh.

“We can’t all benchpress our teammates; Bokuto’s an anomaly.”

Sawamura drives how Kuroo expects. Responsible and rule-abiding, except for a brief moment when someone cuts him off and Kuroo thinks for a moment he might start a drag race in the streets of Torono out of irritation. They arrive at the Sawamura household in the middle of a heated argument over whether it’s ever acceptable to pull a fire alarm when there’s no fire, with even Kenma offering a few disaffected opinions. The house is a nice two-story building with a small yard and garden in a quiet but quaint neighborhood. Sawamura hustles them in, insistent on carrying Kenma’s suitcase for him, and leaving Kuroo to fend for himself.

Inside, there’s a petite but squarely planted woman stirring something up vigorously in the kitchen. She turns abruptly when she notices them enter, and hastily drops her spoon back in the pot to hurry over to them, her ponytail swinging as she trots over. Sawamura squawks when the spoon splatters a splash of curry on the stovetop and he exchanges places with her with a harried cry of “Mom! You’re making a mess.”

“Oh, Daichi, sweetheart, I just wanted to come meet your friends before dinner!” Sawamura’s mother scrubs her hands on her apron to dry them and clasps Kuroo’s hands in hers, beaming. She has the same warm eyes as her son, though her face is sharper and her eyebrows thin and curved. Kuroo finds himself smiling back, slightly nervous, though he’s usually a sure hand at impressing unfamiliar adults.

“Hello, Sawamura-san. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. This is Kozume Kenma, and we’re so grateful to you and your husband for letting us stay over in your lovely home. Your son was already gracious enough to invite us here, but I wanted to thank you personally.” He bows low and offers over his gift, which she accepts happily. Feeling like he hasn’t said enough yet, he plows on, wearing his least suspicious smile. “Your cooking smells delicious, by the way. And now I can see where your son gets his good looks from,” he says, because he’s a fucking idiot with no filter.

But apparently he doesn’t have to worry about making a complete fool of himself, because she guffaws, patting him heartily on the arm. “Kuroo-kun! Daichi’s spoken so much about you, but he never mentioned what a delightful young man you are! Such a charmer!”

“-oh my god mom, stop,” Sawamura hisses as he stirs the curry. His mother ignores him completely, still cackling.

“Uh, thank you, ma’am,” Kuroo says.

“And Kozume-kun,” she turns to Kenma, who bows shyly in response to her smile. “Daichi says you’re really amazing! Smart and cool-headed. A true rival to his team!”

“Um, that’s kind of him to say,” Kenma responds awkwardly. “But he was probably talking about someone else on the team...”

“Nonsense! You’re the setter, aren’t you? I saw you at Nationals!” she exclaims, herding them into the living room. “You were excellent; really helped give Karasuno a run for their money!”

“Please stop embarrassing them,” Sawamura commands as he dumps potatoes in the pot. “Guys, just bring your stuff upstairs; I’ll be up in a minute to help you settle in.” He waves toward the staircase as he tends to the other large pot on the stove. “Mom, where’s the tofu for the soup?”

They migrate upwards as Sawamura’s mother starts chattering at her son, who shakes his head good naturedly and keeps working on the soup. Sawamura’s room is, as expected, fairly sparse and neat, with two futons already laid out on the floor for both of them. Kenma plans to stay two days here with Kuroo and the rest of his time at the shrimp’s house before they head home. They’re in the middle of unpacking some essentials when Sawamura jogs in, already worn out.

“Sorry about that, guys. She’s really...excitable. I wanted to be sure the curry didn’t get messed up.”

“No worries, man. We’re unpacked now anyway.”

“She’s nice,” Kenma tells Sawamura as he puts his game back into his bag. “Intense, but nice.”

“Yeah, she’s a lot. My dad’s a little better, but don’t laugh at his jokes or he’ll never stop.”

Sawamura helps them finish arranging the room before leading them on a short tour of the house, and they end in the kitchen, where a large pan of grilled fish has suddenly materialized. Spouting exasperated apologies, Sawamura warps to his mother’s side, helping her check if everything is cooked. Shrugging, Kuroo rolls up his sleeves and gets to work on the dishes in the sink while Kenma helps to set the table, for which Sawamura’s mother thanks them profusely.

Behind him, Sawamura slides about, throwing out aluminum foil and grabbing plates. “Sorry, mackerel pike is out of season,” he tells Kuroo on one pass through while holding a jar of pickled shallots. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Kuroo pauses in the middle of scrubbing a bowl, covered in suds up to his elbows. He tilts his head, telling Sawamura frankly, “Dude. You could feed me a stick of gum and I'd be happy to eat it. I'm certainly not gonna complain about a home-cooked meal.”

“You should give yourself slightly higher standards,” Sawamura says, but he flashes Kuroo a smile and gets back to plating the fish.

The water runs lukewarm over Kuroo’s arms, washing the bubbles away, and he returns his attention to the job at hand. Behind him, Sawamura and Kenma chat quietly about Kenma’s plans for the week as they start an assembly line to distribute the curry, and Kuroo is filled with an unexpected tranquility. From the lingering warmth of the oven heating the house and the comforting scent of Sawamura’s home-cooked dinner, to the sounds of his friends conversing – everything in his rapidly changing world seems to be at a temporary peace. He still has that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something strange is on the horizon, but right now, there's nothing he would change about this moment.

\--

“You know you don’t have to go to practice anymore, right? Like, you’re officially free.”

They had turned in fairly early the first night after eating dinner with Sawamura’s family so that they could wake up sooner and head out first thing in the morning. Kuroo and Kenma follow Sawamura to the door of the Karasuno sports park, where they first met a year ago. Sawamura is sighing, but he doesn’t look particularly bothered.

“They heard you two were in town and demanded a special appearance. They’re training already, and somehow we keep getting tricked into coming back to help.”

“You don’t look very tricked,” Kuroo comments when Sawamura brightens at the sight of Ennoshita and Kageyama at the entrance to the gym. Despite his world-weary complaints about his former problem children, it’s embarrassingly clear that he adores them. What a sap. Though Kuroo really has no foot to stand on.

“Ah! Daichi-san! Thanks for coming,” the new captain says while Kageyama tries to absorb Kenma with his intense stare. Kenma sidles behind Sawamura out of his line of sight, which Ennoshita notices. “Oi, Kageyama, turn it down! You’re going to scare our special guests.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Kuroo says, waving his concerns off. “We’re used to all of your oddities by now. But it’s been a few weeks since I played, so take it easy on me, okay?”

Ennoshita escorts them into the gymnasium, where Suga and Azumane have already been put to work, but most of Karasuno turns their attention over to them when they enter the room. Hinata begins an instantaneous run-up at them the second he lays eyes on Kenma, but Kuroo is busy dissecting the series of emotions that cross the former third years’ faces. Azumane, surprisingly, seems to be appraising Kuroo, but his face relaxes when Tanaka rushes him, shouting excitably about something. Kuroo returns his attention to his best friend in time to see Sawamura blocking Hinata from bowling Kenma over with his arm, though Kenma is chatting readily with the shorty over Sawamura’s barrier. He grins. Looks like this trip is definitely going to be worth it.

“Sparkly bumpkin! Scaredy bumpkin! Did you miss me?” Kuroo calls as he saunters toward the upperclassmen. Something’s up with them, but maybe it’s just because they’re wary of him due to his ongoing struggle with Sawamura. Azumane smiles at him though, so it doesn’t seem like there’s any bad blood here.

“Kuroo! Welcome!” Suga exclaims when Kuroo approaches. He shakes Kuroo by the shoulders, his lithe frame somehow packing a painful amount of power. “Still as irritating as ever!”

“Well, of course. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, Suga-kun.”

“I hope you’re ready for more blocking practice,” Azumane says as he reties his hair. “The whole team wants in on it now.”

“Ohohoho, I’ll take any chance to shut down you crows again. Hey, Tsukki! Get those hands forward!” he yells over to his protégé, who shoots him an extremely irked look.

Kuroo runs blocking drills while Kenma helps set for the practice, until they all decide it’s time for a game. For the first game, Kuroo winds up teamed up with his trainees with Kenma setting for them, but pitted against the defensive prowess of both Sawamura and Noya, it's a hard battle. After a few sets they shuffle their teams for a senpai/kouhai match, with Karasuno’s new third years dividing themselves evenly between the two teams. Kenma manages to escape their clutches and sits himself out on the sidelines to play referee.

“Now, just because we’re alumni now doesn’t mean we’re gonna play nice. Don’t underestimate your senpai!” Sugawara announces, pointing across the net.

Sawamura cradles the ball in his arms, giving his underclassmen a rather pitying look. “Don't feel too bad if you lose, okay guys? There's no shame in it; we’re here to help you improve.”

Kuroo stifles a laugh at how his words take instant effect on the other team. Tanaka and Nishinoya whoop back angrily at him, squishing Tsukki between themselves, and Hinata starts jumping in place, quickly driving Kageyama mad. Ennoshita gets them started before the wild ones can get too rowdy, and Kuroo has to adjust again to a new team of players.

When he has the downtime to think about it, he misses his own team so much that it aches. But when the ball is flying at him across the net, there’s nothing but his own instincts and the rapidly evolving sense for the people around him. Suga’s a strategist, he quickly learns. Not with the same clockwork efficiency that Kenma has, but he plays to the team’s strength and learns within a few short minutes how to best utilize Kuroo alongside the rest of their teammates.

Kuroo falls into his role as defense as he observes the way Karasuno plays, pulling together the blocking wall, and making tight receives as needed, but soon, he settles into a groove with them. Azumane had a well-deserved position as Karasuno’s ace, though Kuroo can see both Tanaka and Hinata catching up to him. The two third-years playing on Kuroo’s team – Kinoshita and Narita – already seem more stable than at Spring High. More assured in their abilities after nationals, where they each proved themselves, Kuroo assumes.

But most of all, Kuroo notices how at ease he is, even without Yaku watching his back. Sawamura’s defense is steadfast and far-reaching, and it’s _easy_ to learn to rely on him. He covers the gaps that Kuroo can’t, holding together the team with his support. It’s natural, and Kuroo could see himself quickly growing used to playing off of him if given the chance. Even when they lose the overall match, Kuroo’s still high on the rush of elation at finally getting the chance to play with him, with his hand still stinging from the force of Sawamura’s last high-five.

  


After practice, Karasuno takes them out for lunch to a local ramen joint, where the staff greets them brightly. Kuroo orders a bowl of shoyu on Sawamura’s recommendation, and squeezes into a chair next to Suga and Yamaguchi, still caught up in a conversation with them about serves. Yamaguchi’s been playing around with adding other serves to his arsenal, besides perfecting his already dangerous jump float.

Yamaguchi gets distracted breaking up an argument between Tsukishima and Kageyama, so they turn their conversation toward next year’s plans. Suga’s decided to go to his first choice school in Sendai for literature, too much of a homebody to have wanted to venture too far from home.

“You too, Tokyo boy? Didn’t want to leave the big city, did you?” Suga asks between bites of his super-spicy ramen.

“Country life wouldn’t suit me. It’s not really my speed.”

Suga smiles to himself, eyes twinkling as he asks, “Are you sure about that? I think you’ve got more of a taste for the country than you think.”

Kuroo knows that look. Suga’s fucking with him again, but to what end, is the question. But before he can pursue the thread of conversation further, Tsukishima turns stiffly in his chair and calls his name.

“Kuroo-san,” he says, his face trying to stay neutral, but very obviously some mixture of annoyed and reluctantly embarrassed underneath.

“Tsukki,” Kuroo returns, regarding him with open curiosity. “What can I, as your caring and supportive mentor, do for you?”

There’s a long pause as Tsukki’s teeth grind through his locked jaw. “Can I have your phone number,” he grits out flatly. “To ask for blocking advice in the future.” He looks like he’s in physical pain, both eyes almost squinted shut behind his glasses.

Kuroo almost falls off his chair in elated surprise, and he has to clutch at the table edge and Suga’s shoulder to stay upright. “Oh my fucking god. You’re asking for my help. Willingly. Kind of. _You_ , my beautiful protégé, are asking for _my_ help. Because you admire me _so much_ -”

“Please stop,” Tsukki says.

“-and I can’t blame you. Your other guardians certainly can’t guide you the way that I can-”

“Hey,” says Suga and “Why are you like this,” says Tsukishima simultaneously.

“-so of course you may have my phone number. Sawamura!” Kuroo yells down the table, waving wildly. “Shared custody, asshole! I told you so!”

“Stop making a commotion!” Sawamura yells back over Narita’s head. Kuroo winks at him before turning his attention back to Tsukki, and they trade contact information. Suga prevents Kuroo from entering Tsukishima in as “dearest son,” but other than that, the transaction goes smoothly and Tsukishima returns immediately to pretending he doesn’t exist.

“Suga, any big goals for college? You're turning into a city boy too! You should enjoy it,” Kuroo tells Suga as they wait for the check.

“Me?” Suga puffs out his cheeks as he thinks, and blows a lock of silver hair out of his eyes. “Well, get good grades in all my classes, for one. They say even if you're a good student in high school, university is a whole other matter.”

“No way, you'll be fine,” Kuroo scoffs. “Sawamura says you never slip when it comes to your studies. I can't see that changing, even if you go to parties and raves every other weekend.”

“You sound just like Daichi. How's your provocation battle going? I haven't seen him grinding his teeth lately.” Suga’s gray eyes are wide and bright, and his smile kind. Yeah right.

Kuroo laughs and claps him on the back. “As if I'd give away my plans to you, of all people. How naive do you think I am?”

Suga actually falters a little when Kuroo pats him, and a wrinkle develops at the bridge of his nose before he shakes it away, and sighs. “It was worth a try,” he says. “Well, as long as you guys don't get the team caught in the crossfire, I don't really care who wins.”

“Ha. Don't lie.”

“It's true! Obviously you know where my loyalties lie, but this might actually be good for Daichi.”

“What, losing? I know you guys are champs now, but I didn't think it was possible to so quickly forget what it feels like to lose, especially since you were so good at it.”

The classic signs of irritation are very satisfying to see on Suga’s usually refreshing face. “Wow, you really are great at that,” he says, before exhaling hard and centering his focus on Kuroo again, still vaguely perturbed. “Anyway, no, that's not what I was saying, you wily cat. Just- never mind. Good luck. And don’t screw this up, okay?”

“Sure,” Kuroo agrees, even though he’s completely certain Suga isn’t really on his side. “So, you gonna try out for your school’s team? Or are you and Mr. Boring Captain over there both going to spend all your time holed up in the library?”

Suga pokes him in the side before explaining that he’ll think about it, but will probably look for a local club to play with instead. They fall into a discussion about what kind of student organizations they want to join, but Kuroo finds himself distracted by Sawamura in his peripheral vision.

He’s laughing about something that Azumane is saying, eyes soft as he rests his face against his hand. Kuroo watches as he reaches out and flicks his ace lightly on the forehead, still grinning as his hand gets swatted away. For a moment, his attention flickers over toward Kuroo’s end of the table, but his gaze passes over Kuroo without hesitation, slipping away to watch Suga briefly. Kuroo keeps talking, keeps waiting to see from the corner of his eye if Sawamura will turn to look at him, but he never does. Azumane starts talking again, and recaptures Sawamura’s attention without any effort.

Kuroo is saying something to Suga, something about scientific journals, or maybe work study options. He’s not sure. His mouth is moving, he knows that much, and he’s holding eye contact with Suga, but all his concentration is being spent on figuring out the tightness in his chest and constricting spasms in his stomach. His face is getting hot; he hopes it doesn’t show.

For some reason, perhaps borne from a lifetime of learning the way people tick, Kuroo has always been better at understanding the way others feel than at analyzing his own emotions. It’s not that he doesn’t like to self-reflect, but he can’t always connect the dots between his feelings and the reasons behind them. Maybe he’s just willfully blind. This time though, he knows what this physiological reaction means.

He’s jealous.

When Sugawara and Azumane are around, Kuroo is barely a blip on Sawamura’s radar. There’s no such thing as _special_ when they outshine him just by existing, and it’s not fair for him to feel bitter about this. He understands, better than anyone, what they mean to him. No one could ever take Kenma’s place in Kuroo’s life, and this is the same thing. No one will ever mean as much to Sawamura.

But, god, so often he wishes – with a scorching intensity he can’t put into words – that he _could_.

\--

Kenma turns over in his sleep, leaving his hair covering his whole face and his blanket askew. Kuroo sits up in his futon and reaches over to tug the covers back up over his friend, and notices that Sawamura’s not in his bed. They had turned in about two hours ago, and Kuroo had dozed off right away, body exhausted from this morning. He had only woken because of Kenma shifting: an instinct he’d gained when they were young and Kenma used to wake up in the middle of the night during their sleepovers.

But Kenma is fast asleep now, and Kuroo is left sitting here under the thin moonlight falling into Sawamura’s room wondering where their host is. There’s still the satisfying ache of a hard day’s work in his muscles, but he feels awake now, caught in the eerie space of night where everything is still besides himself. Gingerly, he climbs out from under his blankets and pulls on his sweatshirt, careful not to disturb Kenma, and sneaks to the bedroom door.

The house is quiet besides the usual creaks and hums of a well-loved home, and there’s still no sign of Sawamura, so Kuroo glides down the stairs in search of him. His path leads through the kitchen, and from the window, he spies Sawamura’s silhouette outside so he slips out the door to see what he’s up to.

Sawamura stands barefoot on the grass in his hoodie and pajamas, staring up at the star-speckled sky. He looks lost in thought, mouth slightly downturned. It’s not the first time Kuroo’s watched him by moonlight, and like the last time there’s something sublime about the scene. There’s always been an earthy quality to the other boy, from his posture to his personality, but in moments like this, Kuroo feels the unsettling sensation that under the right lighting, he might find something more ethereal than he expected. Sawamura is grounded, deeply rooted in conviction and toil, but he was also born to fly.

Under the pale moon of spring, the stars seem to yearn for him, drawing him back to the sky where he belongs.

Kuroo walks quietly, trying not to make a sound, but Sawamura senses his presence and turns, breaking the thread between himself and the sky, tied down to the earth once more. Inexplicably, Kuroo feels a soft rush of relief.

Sawamura meets him halfway. “Kuroo? Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep. What are you doing out here? Sneaking around, trying to get the drop on someone?”

“Clearly,” Sawamura deadpans. He touches his fingertips to Kuroo’s arm, right above the elbow, and walks around his house toward his backyard. Kuroo trails after him without any resistance, and they walk barefoot through the chilly grass until they reach a low standing tree covered in unfurling white blossoms.

The streetlamp down the road casts its light far enough that its outermost halo catches right outside Sawamura’s yard, and the flowers gleam both golden rose and white in the dark. The branches dip low enough that Sawamura can reach up lazily and brush his hands against the petals without stretching.

“Magnolia stellata,” Kuroo says as he runs his hand over the star magnolia’s bark. The tree has suffered slightly from the frost, but most of its flowers have opened.

“Nerd,” Sawamura says fondly as he bends down to pick up a fallen blossom. He examines it briefly, blowing away some stray dirt, before lifting it to Kuroo’s head and tucking it into a tuft of hair. “There. Now you look fresh.” His thumb skims over Kuroo’s temple as he draws away, and Kuroo tries not to shiver.

“I'm sure I do, but did you lure me out here just to make me prettier? You'd make a really bad ghost.” Kuroo adjusts his flower so it sits more securely in his nest.

“No one’s luring anybody. This is what you get for nosing around.”

“Hey, if there’s trouble afoot, you know I’ve gotta find it.”

“You’re out of luck, then. There’s no trouble here. Just insomnia.”

Kuroo frowns as they walk toward the center of the lawn, far from the neatly planted garden along the side of the house. “You should have told me. I could have stayed up with you.” They settle into the grass, knees tucked under their arms to keep warm, and they sit there watching the magnolia rustle gently under the barely present breeze.

“And leave us both sleepless? We'd just both be tired tomorrow.”

“We can sleep in, you know. It's okay to take it easy occasionally, Mr. Responsible. You have exactly zero obligations right now.” Kuroo rests his chin on his arms, turning his head so he can see Sawamura.

“Well, I still have you to deal with.”

“I'm a gift, not an obligation. You know me: I go with the flow. You wanna sleep in til noon? Sounds good. You want to stargaze and gossip about other teams? Great, let’s do it.”

Sawamura laughs softly as he combs his fingers through the short grass. “What’s there to say? You just want to complain about Nohebi again, don’t you?”

“What? No,” Kuroo denies. “I, uh, wanted to talk about how Itachiyama is considering a change to their team colors?”

“Oh. Scandalous.” He has the nerve to look unimpressed, and Kuroo frowns.

“What’s with the face?”

“You call this gossiping? Where’s the good stuff?”

“Oh, this isn’t good enough for you? You want the shocking rumors and salacious details, do you?” Kuroo asks, wiggling his fingers, and Sawamura snorts, throwing himself flat on the ground.

“I suppose I thought someone like you would know everyone’s dirty laundry.” He's eying Kuroo sideways, goading him, but Kuroo knows now not to give in so easily.

“Of course I do, darling, but you know there's no such thing as a free lunch. You want the goods, you gotta dish out something of equal value.”

“You'd think I would have learned by now not to make deals with you,” Sawamura says. “Okay, same conditions as last time?”

“Nothing said here is ever revealed to anyone else,” Kuroo reiterates. He's not sure what kind of dirt Sawamura might have, but it wouldn't do to get careless.

“Good. Okay. Ready?” When Kuroo nods, Sawamura whispers, “According to Moniwa-kun, Datekou only watches Miyazaki films for movie night. Aone’s favorite is Totoro. Futakuchi’s is Howl’s Moving Castle.”

It's so disappointingly tame that Kuroo’s face falls for a moment, and Sawamura laughs at him.

“C’mon, Kuroo, did you really think I had real blackmail material on other teams?” he teases, his eyes bright, and Kuroo flops over to join him, still pouting.

“Maybe! Who can tell with you?”

“I thought you’d know me better by now.”

“I wish,” Kuroo says absently, making a no-snow angel on the grass. “I don't think I'll ever be able to completely read you.”

“I don't know about that,” Sawamura says. He's looking thoughtfully at Kuroo, like he's trying to figure something out about him. “Sometimes I think you know me too well, considering how long we've been acquainted. I should be more careful.”

It's an admission that Kuroo doesn't expect, and he isn't sure what to make of it. It's a good sign, right? He'd like to think they're pretty close now, and it looks like that feeling might be mutual. Not as much as Kuroo would like, but it’s like he’s unlocked another door. Passed through another one of the gates separating them.

“Now, don’t be like that. You can let your guard down around me.” He waggles his eyebrows, causing Sawamura to physically try to shake the revulsion off himself.

“Ugh.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo laughs. He _is_ pretty annoying sometimes. “Alright, gossip. Gossip. Let's see. Uh, Bo has a bad habit of chewing the erasers off all his pencils. Sometimes he even dents the ferrule. It's gross.”

“I can imagine.”

“It’s why Konoha only uses pens these days.”

“Really? To be honest,” and he lowers his voice, shooting a guilty look off to the side, “I used to always borrow paper from Suga during class ‘cause I’d fill all my notebooks with volleyball plays and wouldn’t have room for my real notes. He got fed up with it one day and threw a notebook at my head but I ducked and he hit our English teacher instead and got in trouble. He was pretty mad at me for the rest of the week.”

“Shit, you really screwed him over,” Kuroo says. “No wonder he has to keep tabs on you.”

“I didn’t mean to,” says Sawamura, shaking his head. “It was instinct, and then it was too late. I still feel kind of bad about it even now.”

“You’ve probably gotten chewed out by teachers more than enough times for your team. I think that evens out the score.”

“Is it weird that I’m starting to miss it? Despite all the trouble?” Sawamura stretches his arms up above his head, cracking his back. He leaves his hands outstretched, near Kuroo’s, and laughs ruefully. The wind falls still and silent around them.

“A little bit,” Kuroo says softly. “About as weird as it is for me to miss Lev’s whining and Yamamoto’s theatrics.”

“Yeah.” They don’t have to talk about it to understand how the other feels. Wistfully, Sawamura looks back up, scanning the constellations embroidering the blue-black dark of the countryside sky. “I came out here to see the stars again before I couldn’t anymore. There’s too much light in Tokyo.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen so many-” He breaks off. Before he even fully processes the rest, Kuroo sits up so quickly he almost loses his flower. “Tokyo. _You_ , in Tokyo. Which school?” he presses, clutching Sawamura’s arm at the elbow, probably squeezing too hard, but the other boy grins, sly and knowing.

“Kaimei. See you at orientation, Tetsurou.” That damn smile ignites a flare in Kuroo, as he realizes everything this means for them. For their future.

“You _motherfu_ -” The rest of his words are lost when he tackles Sawamura’s prone body, knocking the wind out of him. Sawamura must have anticipated his reaction, because he rolls Kuroo off and tumbles him down so they’re lying on the grass facing one another. He’s so close that Kuroo could breathe him in if he wanted to.

“This is how you tell me?” he demands, trying not to drown under Sawamura’s undivided attention. “You drop a bombshell like that out of nowhere?”

“Surprise,” Sawamura says, and Kuroo punches him. “Oi. Don’t be mean. We need to stick together as freshmen.”

“Who says I want to be associated with you in college? Gonna be a new me, remember? Don’t need nationally famous crows dragging me down.”

Sawamura rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Alright, have fun with your new life and your new friends. I’ll just sit alone in my room and study for four years straight. Do me a favor and let me out on graduation day, would you?”

With a groan, Kuroo punches him lightly again. “God, you’re such a bummer. Fine. I will continue to grace you with my presence, because apparently you can’t subsist without a little trouble in your life.”

“Apparently.” He winces suddenly, rubbing at his shoulder. “And you can’t seem to stop attacking me every time we meet. No more tackling, from either of us.”

“That was a hug!” Kuroo claims, though it’s a lie they both know has no basis. “How many times are we going to have to talk about this?”

“Probably infinite, since you get _exponentially_ worse at hugging every time you try,” Sawamura says.

“What do you know about exponents, history major?”

“As much as you know about volleyball, drama club.”

They start snickering before they can trade any more jibes, too excited for what’s to come. Sawamura rocks back up so he’s resting on his elbows, and points to the sky.

“Okay, teach me what you know. It’s the last time we’re gonna see them for a long while.”

Kuroo sits up. The tapestry of pinpoint lights stretches out over the mountains, deeper and richer than he’s ever seen before. He really is glad he decided to come out to Miyagi.

The hour has gone far later than Kuroo expected, and he's starting to feel sleepiness call on him again, but he sneaks a glance at Sawamura staring directly above at a cluster of stars, captivated by their light, and makes the easy decision to stay by his side until he can fall asleep.

“I'm no astrophysicist,” he begins, shrugging modestly when Sawamura looks back at him, “but I think we can touch on the basics. So. We've got hydrogen, and we've got helium, and what a star does is...”

\--

It’s unseasonably hot for this time of year, and after they drop Kenma off at Hinata’s house, Sawamura takes Kuroo out to see the town. They jog through the streets, building up a sweat as an excuse to buy convenience store popsicles and eat them on the outdoor pavilion built on an outcropping above the nearby community center.

“I used to play here back in elementary school,” Sawamura says, chewing on the end of his popsicle stick as they watch the kids running around the tiny track outside. Kuroo’s has dripped green melon down his wrist and he has to lick the syrup from his skin before it leaves sticky tracks. In contrast, Sawamura is totally clean, but his lips are dyed cherry red. “A little in middle school too, with Ikejiri and the team, but it’s a while since I’ve been back.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Bring me there.” Kuroo tugs at the hem of Sawamura’s t-shirt sleeve and points with his wooden stick at the building.

Sawamura shows him the gymnasium first, but some local teenagers are playing basketball when they stop in, and he makes a disgruntled face and tells Kuroo they’ll come back later. Instead, they wander over to the indoor pool where a children’s swimming class has just finished. They make slow laps around the pool in rubber sandals, and Kuroo gradually corrals Sawamura closer and closer to the edge of the water.

“You aren’t subtle,” Sawamura says, elbowing Kuroo when he starts to teeter at the deep end. Kuroo raises his arms, trying to gauge his reaction. He knows for a fact that the other boy can swim, and that the water here goes five meters deep, so there's no chance of harm, but he doesn't want to push any jokes too far. But Sawamura is amused, walking carefully balanced on the tiles he has available instead of jostling Kuroo out of the way for more room.

“Does it matter?” Kuroo asks, and Sawamura shrugs.

“If you want to avoid getting wet, it does. You know I’ll take you down with me.”

With a grin, Kuroo moves in anyway, closing Sawamura in right at the ledge. “Oh, I know.” And he pushes Sawamura in.

True to his word, Sawamura latches onto Kuroo’s arm as he falls, pulling him in too. They land with an ungainly splash, going under hard. Time and distance distort as Kuroo sees Sawamura in free-fall through the rippling water, the light breaking in beams around them. He blinks once, as if to take a snapshot of the moment, before his instincts tell him to move. Streams of bubbles course out as they exhale before kicking back to the surface. Kuroo emerges first, doggy-paddling back to land. He hitches his arms over the ledge to hold himself in place as he waits for Sawamura.

“Like I thought, cats can't swim,” Sawamura says with a laugh as he pushes his wet hair out of his face. Kuroo tries to do the same, but it melts into a flat mess so he slicks it back instead, causing even more laughter.

“It's not that bad,” Kuroo says, petulant, and Sawamura nods to appease him.

“You look...roguish. And damp.”

They swim to the shallow end, where they sit submerged on the lower steps after Sawamura tries unsuccessfully to teach Kuroo how to float. After the fourth time Kuroo burbled water through his nose they quit, and now they lounge around aimlessly, with Sawamura kicking gentle ripples across the surface and Kuroo mourning his wounded pride.

“You’re just too gangly. Like an overcooked noodle,” Sawamura says as Kuroo sighs again.

“Isn’t there a nicer way of saying that? ‘Oh, Kuroo, you’re just too tall and handsome to float!’” Kuroo’s imitation of Sawamura’s voice is poor at best, and he gets splashed accordingly for it.

“Tall, dense, and handsome; that’s you.”

“Are you calling me heavy or are you calling me stupid?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” Sawamura laughs. “You’ve got too many personal problems for me to list them all.”

“This disagreeable side of you is why you’re still single, you know.”

Sawamura raises his eyebrows. “ _You’re_ the reason I’m still single,” and for a heart-stopping second Kuroo doesn’t understand what the hell _that’s_ supposed to mean, before Sawamura says, dryly, “Kinda glad I didn’t actually pay for your matchmaking services. Where are the hotties, Kuroo? Where are all the attractive bachelors I was promised?”

“Uh, I’m working on it?” Kuroo croaks out. “It's a very sophisticated process. I'm not just throwing every random person I know at you. There are things to consider. Metrics and stuff.”

Sawamura’s nod is slow and considering, and does nothing to hide his amusement. “Right, obviously. Metrics and stuff. The heart of every romance.”

“Your skepticism has been noted, and will be promptly ignored. As if _you_ know anything about romance, anyway.”

“Fair. I wouldn’t be turning to someone like you for help if I did.”

By now, others have started to fill up the pool for free swim, and they’re just hanging around taking up space, so they crawl out of the pool and attempt to wring out their sopping clothes. Kuroo squeezes as much water as he can from his shorts and decides it would be easier to deal with his t-shirt if he weren’t wearing it, so he strips it off to wring it dry. He barely catches the sight of Sawamura turning faintly pink while glancing at his bare chest; before Kuroo even has the chance to think on this, Sawamura shakes his head and follows his lead to dry himself as best he can. They exit the community center to take advantage of the sun and set off jogging again.

The warm weather does an admirable job, and they don’t remain feeling damp for long. Sawamura takes him out on the running path he favors and they fall into easy conversation about Kuroo’s new favorite band.

Everything is the way it should be, but Kuroo is still hung up on what happened at the pool. Sawamura had definitely been staring at him. Shirtless. Which wouldn’t normally be a big deal, whatever, but considering that time in his room, he doesn’t think Sawamura was just staring. He was checking Kuroo out.

So Kuroo’s suspicions were correct. At the very least, Sawamura finds him a tiny bit attractive. He’s not sure what, if anything, he’s going to do with this information, but if nothing else it’s flattering. And as a wingman, it gives him a starting point, an idea of what kind of guys to look for once they hit college.

Tall, dense, and handsome. Kuroo can work with that.

\--

With Kenma in tow, Hinata slides across the wooden floor with his white socks, skidding past Kuroo and straight into the next room. Kenma almost trips on Tsukishima’s feet as he’s tugged along. Kuroo waves as they take off toward the kitchen and almost knock over Suga coming from the opposite direction with a long sheet of paper in hand.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Suga asks. He thrusts his paper at Sawamura, who’s still putting his jacket on.

“Is this everything we need? We’ll go to the big market nearby.”

“Don’t forget the spring onion!” Azumane calls from inside the kitchen.

“And the cabbage, please!” follows Shimizu.

“Gotcha. We’ll be back soon.”

“Don't dilly-dally if you wanna actually eat dinner anytime before midnight,” Suga says. “Most of the dishes need at least one thing from that list.”

Sawamura is still tying his shoes so Kuroo snatches up the shopping list from him and sticks it in his pockets. “I got this. We’ll be back before you know it,” he assures Suga, and drags Sawamura out the door of Azumane’s house. Karasuno’s vacation party is rolling along, woefully underprepared, and only now are they heading out to buy ingredients. The whole team is there, managers and all, half of them hard at work cooking, and the other half causing trouble for the others.

“Race you there!” Kuroo calls over his shoulder as he takes off down the road back toward where he thinks the main street is. Might as well make this interesting.

“You don’t even know where you’re going!” Sawamura hollers back. His feet pound against the pavement as he tries to catch up with Kuroo. “Wait for me or you’ll get lost!”

Kuroo ignores him until the intersection, when he realizes he doesn’t know which direction to go, but before he can ask Sawamura rockets past him, swerving right and leaving him behind. He doesn’t even look back. Son of a gun.

Following close behind, Kuroo chases him down but Sawamura stays a step ahead. Thankfully the streets aren’t very busy, and they can run wild without fear of bothering anybody. More than once Sawamura manages to slip by the cross-streets while Kuroo has to wait for a car or two to pass, which increases his lead. After ten minutes of sprinting, Kuroo starts to wonder if Sawamura understands what “nearby” means, because their destination still lies in the far distance.

By the time he arrives at the market, Sawamura is doubled over beside the wall, panting miserably. Kuroo skids to a halt next to him and does the same. As he hangs there, chest heaving through strained breaths, Sawamura lifts his head and flashes a victory sign; Kuroo kicks a rock at him.

“Produce first,” Sawamura decides when they’ve finally gotten themselves together enough to venture inside. He picks up a basket but Kuroo scoots by on a shopping cart chanting “push me, push meeee.”

He does try, albeit with a bunch of grumbling, but without anything in the cart to weigh it down they instantly tip over and almost knock down a stack of tomatoes. After that, Kuroo gets banished on a fetch quest, no longer allowed to touch the cart. They clear the first half of their list with ease; Sawamura calls out an item and Kuroo tosses it over to him. They move on to the frozen foods area, where they run into a small issue.

“What...what does this say?” Kuroo brings the list right up to his face, trying to read the mangled kanji. Sawamura crowds next to him on his tiptoes, also struggling to decipher what’s written on their list. Unable to stop his instinct to annoy, Kuroo raises the paper high above his head, delighting in the way Sawamura first tries to smack it out of his hand, before resorting to threats of climbing Kuroo himself.

“I'm serious, Kuroo; I'll really do it.” Even the way he rolls his sleeves up is stern.

“I’d like to see you tr-” Sawamura marches right up and grasps firmly around Kuroo’s shoulder, which isn’t so bad, until he starts moving. “Ow, Sawamura, not the throat. Okay, I was wrong, you win. C’mon, man. Fuck, ow.”

“Give me that, you menace,” Sawamura says, halfway up Kuroo’s back, with his arm looped around his neck to keep him in place and one foot dug into Kuroo’s hips. Every time he reaches for the list his cheek brushes against Kuroo’s, and Kuroo feels dizzy with the scent of Sawamura’s body wash and his ever-present warmth, so he gives up, relinquishing the paper so he can escape.

“Alright, stop killing me and you can have it!”

Even with the list up close, Sawamura still isn't sure what he's reading. “This is Noya’s handwriting...fish- fish something. Or, no. He scribbled that bit out. I’m just gonna call him.”

Nishinoya reveals that he really needs sesame oil and fish roe, but after they cross that hurdle, they still have Kageyama’s scrawls to get through before the rest of the list.

“Why’d they send us to go shopping when we’re both illiterate in chicken scratch?”

“Suga insisted. He claims I’m ‘too intense in the kitchen’ and ‘needed to be removed for everyone else’s sanity’.” Sawamura, crouched next to the shelf full of oil and sauce, scowls at the bottles in his hands. “But I’m nothing compared to Kinoshita or Yamaguchi.”

Despite this allegation, he continues poring over the two types of sesame oil, trying to find the better product for the better price. Kuroo rolls his eyes and plucks one bottle out of his hands, sticking it in the cart.

“I want this one,” Kuroo says, and shoos Sawamura out of the aisle, onto the next.

“Wait, how do you know that one’s better?” He keeps sending worried glances back at the rows of sesame oil they’re leaving behind, and Kuroo has to keep a hand pressed to his back to keep him moving.

“I don’t. But do you think Noya honestly cares? Come along now. We need to buy potato starch, and I know you’re gonna take at least seven and a half minutes to agonize over that too.”

“It’s important to choose the right ingredients for the dish you’re making,” Sawamura mutters, allowing himself to be pushed along with the cart.

“I get it now. Suga would rather inflict you on me than suffer through this himself. Thank god I was the one picking vegetables earlier, or we’d still be looking at garlic tomorrow morning.”

With Kuroo hurrying him through the list, they gather everything they need quickly enough, leaving a bit of time to browse through the snack aisles. Sawamura denies all his suggestions for chips, and crackers and chocolates, until he finds his golden ticket. There’s a whole shelf of them, and he grabs two fistfuls before sidling up to his companion again.

“No, Kuroo,” Sawamura says without looking up. He’s scouring the nutrition facts on a box of strawberry wafers for Shimizu.

“Bro, you don’t even know what magnificent treasures I have unearthed for you.” When Sawamura finally deigns to turn his way, Kuroo rains a dozen bags of kit kats down into the cart. “Tada!”

“Kuroo...”

“What? You don’t like these flavors?” Kuroo tosses the bag of hazelnut kit kats from hand to hand and points back to the shelf. “There’s a ton of others.”

Sawamura picks through the cart with a sigh. “No, it's not that. It's just- do you really expect me to eat _sixteen_ bags?” Unconsciously, he pinches at his middle. It's oddly endearing to see him worried about something like his waistline.

Kuroo shoots the last bag into the cart like a basketball, and takes control of steering them onward again. “Babe, stop worrying,” he says, wrapping his arm around Sawamura's shoulders again and dragging him down the aisle. “You look great, and no amount of kit kats is going to change that.”

“Flatterer.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

“That doesn't change the fact that this is objectively too many kit kats.”

Quick as can be, Sawamura snaps forward and fishes about seven bags back out and jogs off to return them. Kuroo pouts but lets him do as he will.

Soon afterwards, they decide it’s high time they get back to the party before Karasuno resorts to eating itself. Sawamura pays with money collected from the team, but Kuroo insists on buying the candy for him. Strapped down with their multitude of shopping bags, they begin the long-ish trip back to Azumane’s house, this time trudging slowly.

Kuroo’s just starting to regret not taking the car when Sawamura, his bags hiked over his shoulders and looking like a old-fashioned countryside laborer, pokes him in the ribs and says, “I’ll race you back.”

“No!” Kuroo says, horrified. He's holding at least two glass jars and a carton of eggs.

“You shouldn't have taken so many breakables if you didn't want to lose.” Sawamura starts power-walking away.

“Oi, slow down, you bastard!”

Rearranging his bags so that his fragile items take the least impact as he increases his speed, Kuroo sets off in pursuit. Time and again he winds up chasing after Sawamura. Maybe one day he'll actually catch him.  


  


Ten minutes to midnight and Kuroo is leaning against the wall watching the world’s least competitive dance off match between Karasuno’s two managers while the rest of the team cheers them both on. They’ve completely cleared the house of all the food they cooked earlier, but some people are still nursing their sodas and others are munching through Sawamura’s kit kat surplus. Tanaka’s kouhai tease him as he agonizes over what to text to his new girlfriend, and Kenma is chatting with Ennoshita about something. Video game films, if Kuroo’s hearing them correctly.

Sawamura had disappeared to somewhere earlier with Suga and Azumane; Kuroo, all sung out and content just to people-watch has been hanging out next to a dozing Narita for the last couple of minutes. He snaps a few photos of the party, then sets to replying to the texts he missed while busy with dinner.

from king kai: (9:53) _Kurokawa showed me this earlier._  
(9:54) _It reminded me of you._

It’s a link to a video of a cat being harassed by ravens, eventually getting chased up a wall and away, and Kuroo has to laugh, though he can’t help but be disgruntled that literally no one is on his side, not even his trusted vice-captain. What the heck.

(11:51) **kai**  
(11:51) **nobu**  
(11:51) **yuki**  
(11:52) **this is slander and i will not stand for it**

Kuroo is trying to interpret the mysterious picture Fukunaga sent to him when someone sits down on his other side. It’s Azumane, slouching into a lump, looking worn down but at ease.

“Hey! Got sick of them tormenting you?” Kuroo asks. He’s talked more with Azumane in the past few days, and found that when he’s not held back by his nerves, he’s even-tempered and amiable, both fun to tease and commiserate with.

Azumane offers a shuddering noise, simply telling him, “Most days I honestly couldn’t tell you which one is worse. Daichi is...well, you probably know by now.” Kuroo does. He’s felt that empty-eyed glare boring through him and felt those razor-sharp fingers jabbing him enough times.

“Yeah. And Suga’s in a league of his own. Three years...you persevered well,” Kuroo says sympathetically.

“So have you.” Azumane grins suddenly, and Kuroo catches a glimpse of the fire that hides underneath his gentle demeanor. “You’re good at dealing with them. I think Daichi’s finally met his match.”

Kuroo perks up. “You’re the first person in the last two weeks to demonstrate any faith in me. You’re my new favorite, Azumane.”

Azumane laughs quietly and runs a hand through his loose hair. “Thanks, but I think someone else is better suited for that position.”

As if on cue, Sawamura and Suga emerge from the other room, jostling each other over something. Suga is mischievous and Sawamura exasperated, his eyes narrowed at his setter as he mutters something Kuroo can’t hear from where he’s sitting. He meets Kuroo’s eyes for a second, giving a little smile and wave before he escapes Suga’s machinations to ask after Hinata and Yachi, collecting their empty bottles before walking toward the kitchen.

Sawamura is never the brightest person in any room, not when he's always surrounded by such distinct and loud personalities. It's in his nature to fill the background unless he needs to lead, and it should be easy to lose him in a crowd, but miraculously, Kuroo never does. He's like a compass pointing north; no matter where Sawamura is in a sea of people, Kuroo’s eyes can pinpoint him with ease.

Kuroo watches him until he exits again, and wonders how right Azumane really is.

\--

Their train leaves mid-afternoon, so on his last day in Miyagi Kuroo goes out for lunch with Sawamura before they drive over to Hinata’s to pick Kenma up. He thanks Sawamura’s mother profusely on his and Kenma’s behalf before leaving, and she gifts him with two full plastic bags full of treats before sending him away with a bone-crushing hug.

Hinata’s house is across the mountain, but it’s not too long a ride by car, so they wind up arriving earlier than necessary. Rather than spend extra time at the station, they hold off on collecting Kenma, deciding instead to take a walk around Hinata’s neighborhood first. They start off walking beside one another, but after some timely heckling from Kuroo about the ever sensitive subject of his height, Sawamura elects to walk on the short wall running parallel to the street.

“Let me guess,” Kuroo says, stroking his chin as if to ponder the many mysteries of life. “Three wishes, and you’d use one of them to grow taller. Am I right, or am I right?”

Sawamura doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing him get riled up. “Wrong. I'd wish for everyone else to be shorter.”

“You're not that spiteful.”

“I suppose not,” Sawamura admits. “If we’re being honest, I’d wish to be one of those people who can fall asleep right away.”

“Inuoka can do that; I’ve always been kind of jealous. I wouldn’t waste a wish on it though.”

“No? What would you ask for instead? Ten million yen? A better sense of fashion? A less ridiculous laugh?”

“Hey! My laugh is sunny and charming,” Kuroo says, bristling, and Sawamura grins.

“It’s one-of-a-kind, for sure.”

They turn at the corner onto another street, and Kuroo ponders what he needs to do to get a proper rise out of his rival. It’s easy to get small outbursts, but it’s not enough to give him a definitive win, especially when Sawamura knows how to parry his attacks. He'll have to prod and see what makes an impact.

They poke fun at each other over some stupid decisions made at the party last night. Sawamura almost agreed to let Tanaka give him a monk-cut, and Kuroo was dumb enough to steal a bite from Suga’s plate, leaving him gasping for water twenty seconds later. The highlight of the night was the no-holds-barred karaoke duet throwdown between the setter team of Suga and Kageyama and the short duo, Noya and Hinata. Even Kenma had given a little cheer when Hinata went all out on his high notes.

The whole trip really has been great, and Kuroo tells Sawamura as much. Of course, he can’t make his compliments too positive, or he’ll lose his edge.

“I’m still the superior tour guide, of course, but this was a good effort. For a backwoods hayseed like yourself.” Usually a dig like that would earn him at least a scolding, and Sawamura does give that glare he only reserves for Kuroo, but his words have no real irritation behind them.

“Shut up, you had the time of your life,” he declares, and Kuroo yields.

“I did.”

They decide to circle back so they can arrive early at the station just in case, but Kuroo doesn’t really come to realize that his trip’s come to an end until halfway back to Hinata’s house. Sawamura is walking next to Kuroo again, telling him about the local history of the town, but Kuroo can't stop thinking about the premonition he had when he first arrived that something about his life was about to change. Maybe it’s the fact that they’ll be attending school together next year. That’s certainly going to make a difference, especially on the court, and in that case, Akaashi does have a point. There’s no room for a provocation battle between new teammates who need to learn to work together, so one way or another, he needs to end this game of theirs soon.

But lately it seems like nothing’s enough. Sawamura has grown accustomed to Kuroo’s taunts and tricks, and on the one hand, it’s nice, having another person he can banter back and forth with, someone who gets him and isn’t afraid to bite back. On the other hand, Kuroo really can’t help wanting to pull one over on the other boy. It’s not in his nature to back down unless he really hits a nerve, and Sawamura’s shown no signs of giving up either.

Whatever Kuroo wants to accomplish, he’s gotta do it now, before he heads home and loses his chance to end things cleanly.

They’re nearing Hinata’s street when Kuroo makes up his mind to go for it, though he’s still working on the actual plan. Time constraints push him to make his move before he really knows what he’s going to say.

“Hey, I needed to tell you something,” he says, at the same time that Sawamura tells him, “Kuroo, before you go...”

They both break off, unsure of whether to continue before the other person.

“You go ahead. My thing was- it wasn’t that important, anyway,” Sawamura tells him hastily, waving his hand. He does look like he’s reconsidering whatever he was going to say, shuffling in place, so Kuroo nods. He has to take a second to recollect himself, and fluffs up his hair as a nervous tic before he remembers that he doesn’t actually know where he was going with this. But now he has to say _something_ , or risk awkwardly trying to pass the torch back to his companion. He’ll just have to improvise.

“Sawamura...” he says, still balanced on the edge of all his possibilities, yet unsure of what he’s going to say.

If Kuroo had known, in this exact moment, that nine months down the line he’d be looking back on this decision with nothing but regret, perhaps he wouldn’t make the same choice he’s about to make.

Perhaps he would realize, like all of his friends said, that he was getting in over his head. That his game had gone too far, beyond what even he knew. Maybe if he had known that he was setting himself up for heartbreak, for guilt and remorse, he would have said something else.

Maybe.

But here in the present, the only thing on his mind is closing the distance between them that never quite fades. That asymptotic space that Kuroo can never be rid of. He wants to force Sawamura’s hand, to push him until he pushes back, and, as petty as it seems, he wants to win whatever’s been going on between them. He wants a _reaction_ , something genuine and candid, something he hasn't managed yet to provoke out of him. Kuroo’s already lost once when it counted most, and somehow it feels like he’s on uneven footing these days whenever he looks at Sawamura.

Just once, he wants Sawamura to feel the same way about him.

_I want to see all of you. I want you to see all of me._

And so, he makes his choice. Keeping his gaze steady, willing himself not to look away for even a second, he finds the words he needs to win this game.

“Sawamura,” he says. “I like you.”

It's a lightning strike, the expression that crashes across Sawamura’s face before he reins it in with pure willpower. For the briefest moment, he’s defenseless, staring wordlessly at Kuroo in unfiltered shock, and this – this is what Kuroo wanted. Just one perfect instance where the last of Sawamura’s walls aren't up, and Kuroo doesn't have to see him through the panes of a bus window, through the pixels of his phone screen, through the net and across the court.

Just this once, Sawamura lays it all bare for him to see: the person he is when he doesn't feel he has anything to hide. The realest version of himself, the Sawamura that Karasuno knows, both at his best and at his worst. Even when he gets himself under control again, there’s a lingering vulnerability, as if Kuroo’s cracked open that barrier between them enough that it hasn’t yet been restored.

“Kuroo...” Sawamura starts, looking away, at the ground, not meeting Kuroo’s eyes, and this is it. He’s going to gently let Kuroo down, awkwardly kind about it all, which is the perfect time for the reveal. Kuroo will only gloat for a minute or two. Then they’ll wipe the slate clean for the upcoming year.

But, like Kenma says, the world doesn’t always cooperate with your well-laid plans.

Sawamura doesn’t give him the “better as friends” speech. He doesn’t offer his pity. Instead, he looks straight on at Kuroo, with his eyebrows drawn together in consideration, and asks, “Are you sure?” There’s something about the tone of his voice, careful and fracturing just slightly at the edge, that catches Kuroo unawares. It’s too real.

It takes Kuroo by enough surprise that he’s sure it shows in his eyes, and he acts on instinct, which usually doesn’t fail him.

“When it comes to you, I’m always sure,” he says. An unexpected truth, even if it’s not a direct answer. Even when everything else is a whirlwind, including Kuroo’s own thoughts, there’s a certainty about Sawamura that can’t be shaken, and it’s the first thing that comes to mind when he answers.

Sawamura studies his face for a few more seconds, searching him for the truth. Faced with those dark eyes, Kuroo almost gives himself up, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out his confession. He doesn’t know what Sawamura sees, but he looks away again before speaking. This time though, he’s traded in his uncertainty for that familiar grin.

“So, _this_ is how you run your matchmaking business? By dating your clients?”

“I did promise you a 10 out of 10, didn't I?” Kuroo quips, and Sawamura laughs. Like usual, pride bubbles up in Kuroo’s chest when he hears it. He should probably stop this before he digs his hole too deep, but it’s honestly too much fun.

“You’re awfully confident. You don’t even know if you’re my type.”

“And you don’t know if I’m not. I told you not to doubt me, Sawamura. We’re a perfect match; take a chance and you’ll see.” That earns him a shake of the head and a reluctant smile. Sawamura is going to turn him down now, more at ease about it now that they've bantered a bit, and Kuroo can admit it was all a ploy.

Sawamura, though, still hasn't broken his habit of throwing Kuroo’s entire world out of alignment. Kuroo’s a fool for forgetting that the crows always have another surprise waiting in the wings, and a bigger fool for underestimating their captain again.

“So, you’ve confessed and made your case. Now are you gonna ask me out, or what?” Gone is the kind, dependable Sawamura. His smirk is a direct challenge to Kuroo’s teasing.

He knows, Kuroo realizes with sudden clarity. Sawamura knows this isn’t real. But he isn’t backing down. He’s refusing to let Kuroo win.

It should be aggravating that he still won't give in, but it's actually a relief. This had been a gambit, playing off the possibility that Sawamura did, indeed, find Kuroo attractive, but Kuroo hadn't thought through what he would have done if there had been any real _feelings_ of any kind between them. He knows Sawamura well enough that he could confidently say that they’re nothing more than good friends, close enough that they can joke with each other about something like this, but there had always been that infinitesimal risk of hurting him.

And if that were the case, well, Kuroo wouldn’t have gone this far. He would have thrown in the towel rather than break Sawamura’s trust.

But the game is still on. And now it's Kuroo’s turn again.

If he were as smart as everyone seems to think he is, he would concede now. Stop before things get messy, because he knows now that they will; he isn't that oblivious. But he _likes_ this: goofily fake-flirting with Sawamura, who entertains his shenanigans even if he’s internally (and externally) rolling his eyes all the while. He likes what they have, he likes that Sawamura is willing to go toe-to-toe with him, and he likes that it's something that just the two of them share, even if it's reckless and stupid.

So, is there really any option other than to accept?

Careful not to let his mask slip, he offers an expression just tender enough to be believed, capturing Sawamura’s gaze with a feather-soft touch at his wrist. “Then, Sawamura Daichi, will you go out with me?”

Sawamura smiles back, glittering, playful, and half-false. His true smile hides in his voice, dry and nonchalant, as he accepts. “I guess it couldn't hurt to give it a try. You do come highly recommended by my most trusted wingman.”

“He sounds like a brilliant and good-looking guy. Not to mention a loyal friend. And outstanding volleyball player.”

“He's alright,” Sawamura says, fighting a laugh.

The way he looks right now, softly amused and at ease, his body language casual and open and those warm eyes directed only at Kuroo – it causes Kuroo’s chest to seize, and he takes a mental picture, vowing to himself never to forget it. This wasn't what he was after, but it might actually be better. Irrationally, he doesn't ever want to share it with anyone else.

“So we’re going steady, right?” Kuroo asks, jamming his hands back in his shorts pockets. “No more looking at other guys; you’re off the market now, Sawamura.” He tilts his head, leaning into the other boy’s space, watching for the way Sawamura’s eyes widen slightly before he catches himself.

Sawamura snorts, and elbows him into walking again toward Hinata’s. “Didn’t we establish earlier that there were no other guys? They weren’t up to par. Something about metrics, I think.”

“Exactly. I’m the one for you, babe.”

The thoughtful look Sawamura sends him edges the line of authentic, so close it almost looks real. “You just might be,” he says, and Kuroo’s undisciplined heart does a little skip. Still keeping eye contact, Sawamura reaches his hand toward him. Kuroo braces himself, but Sawamura just grazes his arm and points past him, at a house two meters away. “We’re here,” he says, clearly toying with Kuroo’s haywire emotions, and Kuroo nods dumbly back.

“Right, yeah. Let's go get Kenma.”

Sawamura rings the doorbell for them; almost immediately, they hear the distant sound of trampling footsteps approaching. While they wait for Hinata, he presses his hand to the crook of Kuroo’s arm, in the exact spot Kuroo has grown used to feeling the warmth of his fingers, and gives him what looks suspiciously similar to his boyfriend-smile.

“I’m really glad you came to visit, Kuroo.”

“I am too,” is all Kuroo can say in response.  


  


Before Kuroo knows it, he’s on the train back to Tokyo, sitting blankly next to Kenma, still processing the new situation he’s gotten himself into. Their goodbyes to Hinata and the car ride to the station had passed in a haze, and he's been working on autopilot ever since Sawamura saw them off. The last thing they shared was another terrible hug.

He should probably tell Kenma about this relationship upgrade, fake or not, but his friend is busy texting Hinata, and Kuroo’s mouth is, for once, content to stay silent. He should think everything over before he runs his mouth and gets into even more trouble.

A few minutes pass as he tries to settle himself by watching the farmland pass by his window, but he doesn’t feel any more concrete. He needs to tell _somebody_ , to make it real. This might come back to haunt him, but he goes with his instincts again and texts Bokuto.

to brohohoho?: (2:39) **so uh**  
(2:40) **i might kinda be fake-dating sawamura now**

The response is instantaneous.

(2:40) _bro what the FUCK_

That’s a good question. Kuroo’s not totally sure if even he knows.

He’s trying to figure out how to explain it all to Bokuto when he gets a text from Sawamura and his heart almost jumps out of his chest.

from i have ten children: (2:42) _Hey! Uh_  
(2:43) _Just wanted to wish you a safe trip home! Again!!_  
(2:43) _See you in a few weeks!_

The messages come in quick succession, this last one appearing right before Kuroo steels himself to reply.

(2:44) ♥

For some reason the heart, so hastily tacked on at the end, makes him crack up, and once he starts, he can’t stop. Kenma is looking at him in slightly annoyed confusion as he tries to stifle his laughter, but it’s a minute until he can calm himself down. It’s just all so absurd, doubly so since he never expected this from Sawamura of all people, even though he should have been able to see it coming. Who else could be both cunning and competitive enough to roll with it?

Wiping the tears from the corner of his eye, he takes a long breath, steadying himself. Okay. They're really doing this. And Sawamura’s making the first move. The rules are a little different from what Kuroo’s used to, but he’s flexible. He’s not going to be outplayed. His first course of action is to commit, and he starts by changing Sawamura’s name in his phone. Kuroo needs to show he’s at least a little serious about this.

to the boyfriend: (2:46) **thanks sweetheart**  
(2:46) **see you on the first day of school**

He wants to send a ridiculous emoji, but decides maybe it’s good to take things slow at the beginning, and mirrors Sawamura’s choice. He’ll have countless chances to ramp things up once they start class.

(2:47) **♥**

With that, Kuroo sits back, now relaxed and able to breathe again. There’s nothing here to be concerned about. In fact, he should be celebrating the fact that he's finally found a worthy rival.

This is going to be fun.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of part one, folks!! We've made it to college! Hurray!
> 
> A million and one thanks to anyone and everyone who's been reading so far; you're all amazing and always motivate me to do my best! It's going to be a little while until the next chapter; I'm trying to buckle down and work on some other stories, but I'll hope to see you all in chapter 8!
> 
> Meanwhile, if you've got some free time, you'd be doing me a huge favor if you took part in the interactive portion of this fic! There are going to be some minor OCs to fill various roles in the coming chapters, but I haven't bothered to name any of them yet, hahaha. If you'd like, please suggest a name (first and last), and I'll credit you in the notes before their first appearance! Both male and female characters would be helpful, though I'll probably need more guys overall. No pressure, though!
> 
> Anyhow, that's enough blabber from me. As always, let me know if you have any questions/concerns. Thank you again, and see you around next time!! ♥


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience, everyone! I knew this chapter would take me a while, but I'm sorry it was a whole literal year. But canon kurodai ~~handholding~~ handshake gave me the strength to wrap it up, so we're back now! Thanks to Inkerz and suggestivesloth for naming Saki and Akane!
> 
> Note: I think the college experience here will be closer to an American one than a Japanese one, sorry! But I'll try my best not to make it too unrealistic? I also don't know how college sports work, so! Guess we'll see how that goes! Also, I feel like this chapter may become more and more incomprehensible as it goes, so please tell me if you need anything clarified!
> 
> Thank you all again so much for reading! Let me know if you have questions or concerns!

“Okay, so now we’ve got more sponges than I think we’ll ever really use, but hey, better safe than sorry, right? Don’t wanna get caught off guard the one day we have people over and there's like old hot sauce crusted to our bowls or something,” Kuroo calls from the doorway. He kicks it closed, hoisting his plastic bags over his shoulder as he shucks his shoes off and slides into his slippers.

There's no response from Bokuto, which is peculiar, since Kuroo knows he's home. What’s even stranger is the chime of a handheld game being saved, followed by the abrupt end to the background music that he vaguely recognizes in the depths of his subconscious. Kenma?

He pads into the living room, which is that strange mix of barebones yet overstocked in the corners with college student junk like boxes full of instant noodles and mismatched stools and a rickety broom. But they’ve only been living here for a single day, so there’s time still to improve the decor. Sitting on the secondhand couch all in a row are Bokuto, Kenma fiddling with his game, and Akaashi peeling an orange.

“What is this, some sort of housewarming party?” Kuroo asks with a grin, dumping his bags and pulling up a short stool to sit next to their dinged up coffee table where a plate full of orange segments rests. “That’s nice of you, but usually people bring something more exciting than citrus fruit.”

“No. This is an intervention,” Akaashi says bluntly. His dull nails dig into another section of peel, releasing a generous spritz of orangey mist into the air.

“Uh. For whom? And about what? Did I miss something? You gotta get me up to speed, guys.” Kuroo looks over at Bokuto, who smiles guiltily back. Weird.

“Well, actually, funny story! You’re the star of the show today!” Bokuto says. What? “So, uh, why don’t you take a seat first, Kuroo?” he continues, gesturing at the wooden kitchen chair placed in front of the TV.

“He’s already sitting,” Kenma says as he rests his chin on his knees. 

“Oh, shit, right. Uh, okay then! So! We,” he gestures at the couch, “as your cool, close, awesome friends who care about you, are here to discuss something really important with you today!”

Kuroo studies their faces, still half-convinced they’re trying out an odd practical joke on him, but he decides to humor them, and moves over to the wooden chair. “Okay? I’m listening. Though, you know, if it’s a bad habit thing, we can just put it in the roomie agreement.”

Akaashi shakes his head as he tosses the peel onto the table. “No, this is about something else. Involving a mutual acquaintance-”

“Friend! A mutual _friend_ ,” Bokuto insists.

“Right, sorry, Bokuto-san. A mutual friend of ours.” Akaashi, glances at the other two, who gesture for him to go on, and he sighs. “Look, Kuroo-san. Your... _game_ with Sawamura-san. We think maybe it’s time to stop it before you mess things up beyond repair.”

“...what do you mean? We’re fine. Nothing’s-”

“We know you’re dating now, Kuroo-san. Fake-dating. Something.” Akaashi puts his orange on down, looking perturbed. “Frankly, I don’t even know _what_ you’re doing anymore, and that’s why I’m sure whatever it is, it can’t be a good idea.”

“I told you before, we’re just goofing around. Screwing around with each other. You guys probably don't get it, but trust me, we're fine.”

But Bokuto shakes his head. “Bro. Kuroo. You know I love you man, but you’ve gotta stop acting like such a dumbass.”

“Hey, that's kind of harsh, don't you think?”

“Kuro. Just listen first,” Kenma finally scolds.

“Yeah, dude, listen.” Bokuto takes a breath, then sticks his hands forward, miming a box shape to his left. “Look. The stuff you were doing before? That stuff’s like fine, or whatever. Just prank war shit and harmless teasing. No problem there.”

He takes his hands and moves them to the right, drawing another box. “But what you're doing now? Is a bad idea. Now there's _feelings_ involved, and you know if you've ever seen a single movie in your life that you just don't fuck around with feelings, right? ‘Cause someone's bound to get hurt. And we all know you're a good guy – you'd never hurt anyone on purpose – but you're also kind of an idiot sometimes? And we're here to tell you that you need to stop and apologize before you seriously fuck things up with Sawamura. Because he doesn't deserve this.”

Oh, so that’s what this is about. Kuroo blows out a breath, trying to figure out how to explain to his friends that they _just don’t understand_. It’s not like there are _real_ feelings on the line here; Kuroo’s not so much of a dick that he'd continue if there were. But he doesn't know how to convince them of this because none of them _get_ Sawamura like he does. 

“Guys, look, I get how this might sound bad to you, but you just have to believe me. Sawamura knows it’s all fake. It’s all just another provocation, you know? But he didn’t back down, so I can’t either.”

“But actually, you can. And you should,” Akaashi says, his face stern instead of its usual composed. Bokuto looks nervously between the two of them, his hands dropping back to his sides.

“And I will, once one of us gives in,” Kuroo tries to explain again.

“What if it’s too late? What if you ruin your relationship over this stupid game you always play?” It’s unusual to see Akaashi coming down so hard on someone over something that doesn’t directly affect him. His blue-gray eyes are flint-hard, staring Kuroo down from across the table. 

“It won’t, because Sawamura doesn’t feel that way about me. It’s all just a stupid game, just like you said!”

“How do you know?” Akaashi asks sharply. “How can you be _sure_ you're not just toying with him right now?”

“Because I _know_ him, Akaashi!”

“Do you, _really_? You can tell us, right now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Sawamura-san doesn’t have any romantic feelings toward you? That he genuinely knows you didn’t mean what you said?”

Kuroo almost shouts yes without thinking, but he chokes on the word before he can speak it. Because it’s not true; even now, he can’t help but remember that no, he still doesn’t know Sawamura as well as he wants to. And maybe he never will.

But if Sawamura liked him, he would know, right? He would’ve figured it out, wouldn’t he? When he confessed, Sawamura never actually confessed back. If he thought it was real, he would have said so then, right?

And god, that would have been awkward and awful, explaining that it had all just been a trick, and he wouldn’t have been able to blame Sawamura for a second if he wanted to punch Kuroo in the face and never speak to him again. But that’s not what happened. Sawamura had...he had asked Kuroo if he was sure. He had given him the chance to retract it all, to take it back, and when Kuroo hadn’t, he smiled that fake, fake smile and egged Kuroo on. 

It can’t be real. Can it?

Bokuto notices him staring dumbly into space as he tries to reason himself back to reality. He rucks two hands through his gray hair nervously before standing and pacing a few steps in front of the couch.

“What if you’re wrong, Kuroo? Can you handle that, knowing you fucked up a great friendship because you couldn’t stop yourself from stringing Sawamura along?” He tilts his head, regarding Kuroo with both concern and a distant confusion, as if he can’t possibly understand what Kuroo’s doing. And he probably can’t.

“No, I’d be- god, you know I’d never do go that far, but it's not- you just have to trust me. It's not like that-”

“Kuro.” Kenma stands up and walks around the table, stopping still in front of Kuroo. “Onogawa Saki. Second grade. You remember, don't you?”

Kuroo stiffens in his seat. He hasn't thought about that name in a long time. But if he closes his eyes, he can still clearly see the way her face crumpled as she spun around, hair flying in a fan of black before she fled from the classroom in tears.

He'd only wanted her to open up to her classmates a little more, because she was smart and quietly funny and he wanted everyone else to know it too. But he had pushed too hard; fucked it all up. Even after apologizing it wasn't really the same anymore. The only solace he took from the whole mess was that she seemed to make a few more friends after that, with no help from Kuroo.

Kuroo is good at understanding people. He hasn’t always been that way. But he was a kid back then. An idiot. 

“This isn't the same thing, Kenma.”

“Maybe you're right,” Kenma says impassively, his amber gold eyes looking right through to Kuroo’s heart like they always do. “But like Bokuto said...is that a chance you're willing to take?”

If Saki had been like a wisp of air, quiet and refreshing and overwhelmed by Kuroo’s insistent prodding at her to open up, then Sawamura is like a tree, sturdy and flexible under the constant barrage of Kuroo’s provocations. But too far is too far, no matter what the situation. Whether it’s the unwanted attention brought on by an overeager classmate or the fallout from a poorly thought through game – Kuroo doesn’t do that anymore. At least, he doesn’t mean to.

He just wanted...well, he supposes that doesn’t matter. Intent doesn’t overrule impact.

“Yaku, too, remember?” Bokuto says. “You guys got into this huge fight at the end of our first year-”

“-because I wouldn't back down. Because I kept pushing him,” Kuroo recalls, face heating with shame. That one had been on him, reverting back to trying to rile up Yakkun like an asshole over some stupid shit he’d been pissed at their upperclassmen about, forgetting for a moment that there wasn’t anyone more loyal to him than Yaku and Kai.

“You’re very, _very_ clever, Kuroo-san, I’ll give you that. And I know people underestimate just how deeply responsible you are, but sometimes, I think that _you_ forget that you can’t always read people the same way you read a match. People aren’t games.”

It’s the fact that Akaashi thinks he needs to hear this that hurts more than his tone or the words themselves, but Kuroo can’t call it unfair. He’s beginning to see what a fuck-up this really looks like from the other side, and though it pains him to know that he’s still capable of being this obtuse, he thinks he might need to concede this time.

“Guys-”

“You can do what you want, Kuro,” Kenma speaks up again, but his mouth twitches downwards, finally betraying some hint of emotion. “You don’t have to listen to us,” he says, as if Kuroo has ever ignored his advice before, and grinds his fingertips irritably into his pockets, “but you know I wouldn’t tell you to do something if I didn’t think it was worth the energy.” 

Of course Kuroo knows. Kenma is never wrong when it counts.

“Just think about it, Kuroo. That’s all we wanna say.” And they’re all watching him in their own signature way: Bokuto earnest, Akaashi unrelenting, and Kenma so damn perceptive like always, especially when it comes to Kuroo. 

He inhales. “Okay. Alright. You guys are right. I don’t think Sawamura- it’s not what you think it is, but you’re right; whatever the hell I’m doing isn’t worth it. I’m gonna go- I was going to see him today anyway, but- I’ll go finish this. I’ll fix it.”

Bokuto rewards him with a smile, while Akaashi just nods. Kenma studies him for another couple of seconds, and they’re left staring at each other like they do sometimes, before Kenma decides he’s found what he’s looking for and mashes his thumb right into the center of Kuroo’s forehead like he’s pressing a button.

“Ow, Kenma, why?”

“For making me expend effort on worrying about you. You should go,” he says, settling the matter just like that and curling back up on the couch between their friends and returning to his game.

“I just got home!”

“Tick, tick, boom – that’s the sound of a friendship explosion, bro! While you’re wasting time here with us, who knows what could be happening over there?!” Bokuto makes a chop chop motion with his hands while scowling.

“Jeez, Sawamura’s not a bomb, Bo-” but he’s already getting to his feet and going for his coat.

“Before you go, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi says carefully, like he isn't sure if he should ask. The orange has reappeared in his hands. “I wanted to ask if you-”

“No,” Kenma interrupts. “He doesn't. Not yet.” He and Akaashi share a look, having an unspoken conversation with just their eyes.

“I don't what?” Kuroo asks, because Kenma’s probably right about whatever it is – no one will ever know Kuroo better – but Kuroo would at least like to be in the loop.

“Think. You don't think before you act,” Kenma says, forehead wrinkling as he balls up even smaller on the couch. “Sometimes. And it gives me a headache.”

“I’ll buy you some aspirin on my way back,” Kuroo says dryly, but he waves them goodbye as they return to whatever they were doing before ambushing him. “Thanks, guys. I’ll tell you how it goes.”

\--

Sawamura lives on the seventh floor of the dorm, but Kuroo doesn't want to run up the stairs and look like a mess for the talk they're about to have, so he rides the elevator up with a couple of other freshmen who are already discussing rumors about their professors and classes. He’s still not quite used to the layout of campus yet, but Sawamura’s dorm is located fairly close to the science buildings, which helps it stick in Kuroo’s memory.

He reaches Sawamura’s door sooner than expected, and then he’s standing there looking stupidly at the signs on the door declaring “Sawamura” and “Iwaizumi” as he tries to figure out to tackle the issue. Start with small talk first, or get right into it? And after the apology, what then? What’s he going to do if Sawamura is (rightfully) angry with him? Even if he’s _not_ mad, it’ll still surely be unbearably awkward.

Finally, before he can chicken out, he knocks on the door, which swings open after a few seconds. But it’s not Sawamura who answers. Instead, he’s standing face to face with one of the boys he recalls seeing a few months ago outside Kaimei.

“About time you came back, Shittykawa; why do I have your stupid- oh. Uh, sorry. I wasn’t yelling at you. I thought you were my idiot friend,” he says, lowering the hand holding an industrial size box of paperclips. 

“No, it’s cool. He slipped his stuff into your luggage, huh?” At least this is a conversation Kuroo can handle, bonding with strangers over weirdo best friends.

“Yeah. I was wondering why my bag was so heavy – who the hell brings a can of chicken bouillon with them to college? That fucker. You’re here for Sawamura, right?” He opens the door further, allowing Kuroo into the room. “Iwaizumi Hajime,” and he holds out a hand for Kuroo to shake. He’s got a solid grip, and already Kuroo finds him trustworthy.

“Kuroo Tetsurou. Seijou, right? Heard Karasuno had a hell of a time trying to beat you.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Not enough of one, if you ask me. Hey, Sawamura, your friend is here.”

From under the desk poke Sawamura’s legs, twisted at a strange angle as he fiddles with something out of sight. Snaking out from beneath his body are several long charging cords. “Is that you, Kuroo? Sorry, I’m trying to set up these plugs; I’ve almost got it. Feel free to sit wherever!” He kicks one leg out as he tries to wriggle deeper into the space between his desk and the wall. Kuroo is tempted to do something like tie his ankles together, or make a joking comment about Sawamura’s thighs, but now he’s full of nervous energy, and he especially doesn’t want to make it awkward in front of Iwaizumi.

He plops himself down on Sawamura’s bed and helps to reorganize some of the folders and binders lying in a heap on the bedsheets. He hadn’t expected Sawamura’s roommate to be here, which is kind of stupid, in retrospect, and now he’s not sure when to bring up the subject he came here to discuss. He’s definitely not comfortable kicking Iwaizumi out to deal with this, so he might just have to wait until a little later in the day. Maybe that’s good. Gives him some time to strategize.

But then Iwaizumi pulls his coat on, so Kuroo’s heart starts beating faster at the thought of this conversation coming up on him faster than he thought. “We’re gonna head out any second now to go to the orientation thing, once he figures out his electronics situation. Any second now,” Iwaizumi says with a dry smile, and jerks his thumb at the door. “You wanna come along? Another general tour starts at noon.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that. Yeah, sounds great,” Kuroo finds himself agreeing. It’s something he needs to do anyway, and hopefully he can divert Sawamura afterwards without making it weird. “Hurry your ass up, Sawamura,” he heckles, clapping two binders together. “You’re going to make us late.”

“You literally didn’t even know about the tour until four nanoseconds ago,” Sawamura says, aggrieved, and Kuroo laughs. He missed this. They’ve been texting as much as usual, which has its own appeal, but there’s nothing quite like actually being in each other’s company.

“And now I’m really worried about it! What if we miss all the important dining hall info?”

“Or the group activities, or the Q&A,” Iwaizumi adds, and Sawamura sighs.

“Alright, let me just- okay, that’s one down.” With that, he crawls out from the cramped space and stands, his hair completely mussed and a red indentation in the shape of a cord pressed into his cheek. “Don’t say a word,” he warns when Kuroo opens his mouth to tease him, raising his finger in an only half-threatening manner, what with the smile tugging at his mouth. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in person since Kuroo visited Miyagi, and it’s like nothing’s changed at all.

_This is what you were risking_ , he scolds himself. _This easy level of friendship you finally earned, you dumbass_. _Fix it before it all falls apart_.

“I was just going to tell you I like your shirt,” he says innocently, containing everything else he’s tempted to say instead. It’s a plain navy t-shirt. Sawamura snorts.

“Of course you do,” he says, and grabs his coat off the hook on the door. “C’mon then, troublemaker. Let’s go learn about those dining halls.”

  


On their way to the tour, Kuroo learns that Iwaizumi is straightforward and bluntly funny; there’s a firm, no-nonsense sort of kindness to him, and Kuroo can see why he and Sawamura already get along swimmingly. He also learns plenty of terrible things about Oikawa Tooru which he would normally take with a grain of salt, but the way Iwaizumi tells it, like a veteran worn ragged, it seems like the information might tend toward true.

Sawamura tries to stay diplomatic about it, only telling Kuroo, “He’s really one of a kind. He’s got an admirable amount of drive, and honestly, I’m glad we’re on the same side now. He’s something else.”

“Still kind of ominous, considering everything else you guys just told me.”

“I’ll let you come to your own conclusions,” Iwaizumi says. “He was supposed to meet us for the tour, but he’s probably at the gymnasium or flirting with girls or some shit. We’ll catch him later.”

The tour itself is pretty standard, led by upperclassmen who know all the answers to the typical freshman class questions that everyone has. They join a group of about other twenty students, and are led across and around campus to see everything of general interest to new students, before being led to the student building to do some get-to-know-you games. They’re all kind of silly but they help break the ice, and Kuroo meets a girl in the ChemE program that he exchanges details with, pledging to set up a study group once classes start.

Afterwards, they swing by the dining hall for lunch, sticking to themselves for now so as not to get overwhelmed by people before the term even officially starts. 

“It already feels so different,” Sawamura says as he eats his sandwich. He chews slowly, thoughtfully, craning his neck to look around the whole room at all the students. Some are dressed casually, others in club t-shirts or sports uniforms, and yet others in some unique fashion that Kuroo’s probably more used to seeing in the streets of Tokyo than at school.

“No uniforms, no set schedule, no homeroom or teachers telling you where to go. It’s a lot of freedom,” Kuroo agrees.

“I’m not sure if I’m excited or worried about it yet.”

“Give it a few weeks and you’ll have adapted,” Iwaizumi says with confidence. He’s stacking his garbage together, having already finished his meal. “Your type is good at that.”

“What type am I?” Sawamura asks with a raised eyebrow.

“A crow.” There’s a kind of exasperated but grudging admiration in Iwaizumi’s voice that Kuroo recognizes hearing from his own team before, and he laughs. Sawamura grins, though, and adds his own crumpled sandwich paper to the trash pile.

“Hey, you can’t hold that against me forever! We’re going to be on the same team now.”

That’s something that Kuroo has been trying not to focus too much on, because it’ll distract him from everything else he needs to do to prepare for his first week of school. But the specter of anticipation looms over him, that long-standing desire to play alongside Sawamura finally about to come true. There’s a whole bunch of other complicated emotions tied up in this wish, about trust and understanding and lost chances, but the simple fact is that he just wants to know what it feels like to play on the same team together.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be weird seeing you in blue and white,” Iwaizumi says. “You’re trying out too, right, Kuroo? Sign-ups are in the gymnasium.”

“Good to know. I’ll stop by later after I hit up the bookstore. There’s still two more textbooks I need to get.”

Sawamura looks at him in surprise, but it only seems about 75% genuine. “You mean you don’t have all your supplies yet? I’d have thought you’d already hand labeled all your binders and put color-coded flashcards in each of your notebooks. Do you have enough highlighters? Gel pens? I got you some cat-themed sticky tabs at the stationary store, but I don’t know if they’re varied enough for you. I know how you get about your notes.” He seems gently entertained by the thought.

For some reason, despite being generally a neat and uncluttered person, Sawamura takes notes in a bizarrely messy way. His papers are all a sprawling hellscape of half-started outlines and tacked on bullet points, surrounded by random fragments and dates and volleyball plays. He uses abbreviations that no one but him understands, and occasionally tapes scraps of paper into his notebook that he’s scribbled some vital information on. It honestly gives Kuroo a headache. Maybe it’s a humanities thing. In contrast, Kuroo is extremely organized in only two aspects of his life: volleyball and his school work. Sawamura finds it cute that he uses different colored pens and an assortment of boxes and headers to keep everything straight; Kuroo regrets ever letting him see his notetaking methods. 

“Aw, Sawamura, you didn’t have to. You know I already have an assortment of sticky notes for all occasions, but I appreciate it anyway. And you also know there’s no such thing as enough gel pens.”

“Forty isn’t enough?”

“Dude, forty gel pens?” Iwaizumi asks, but he looks impressed instead of incredulous. “I have like two pencils and that’s it.”

“Maybe that’s why your friend stuffed a English-Japanese dictionary in your suitcase instead of his own,” Kuroo points out, and Iwaizumi nods.

“Honestly, I guess that’s fair. Just wish he didn’t shove his damned hair products in there too.”

“If you use them all up, I’m sure Oikawa will learn his lesson. Or give Kuroo a bottle; god knows he could use it.” Sawamura cups his hands around his mouth and blows a hard stream of air to ruffle Kuroo’s haphazard bangs.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kuroo says, throwing a hand up to flatten down his hair fluff. “Not so fast. Mine is an all-natural, organic kind of aesthetic that I’ve perfected over the years. No help needed.”

Iwaizumi looks at his hair critically, slight confusion tingeing his words as he asks, “Is it...intentional? Do you _want_ to look like this?”

It’s the disbelief in his voice that leads Sawamura to crack up laughing, and for Kuroo to pet at his own hair defensively.

“At this point, I’ve kind of become committed to it. It’s a signature look, whether I like it or not.”

“I guess it _would_ be harder to find you in a crowd if you looked normal,” Sawamura agrees. “Better keep it at least through the rest of freshman year.”

After lunch, they decide to split to go to their respective departments for their major orientations. Before he leaves, Kuroo pulls Sawamura aside to ask if he’ll be available later that afternoon.

“I just wanted to catch up before classes start. Uh, one-on-one, if that’s not weird? Is that weird?”

Sawamura laughs, shaking his head. “No, that sounds good. Iwaizumi says he promised to go out shopping with Oikawa anyway, so they’ll be out. Do you want to stop by my room again whenever you’re done?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you when I’m coming by. Try not to trip any more grad students, okay? One of them might turn out to be your T.A.!”

“That was an accident that didn’t even end up happening, you dork! She dodged!”

Kuroo smirks as he tsks, and backs away toward his side of campus, relishing in the way Sawamura rolls his eyes but immediately almost walks into another student and has to hastily bow and apologize. He has to scuttle off down the path before the urge to point and laugh overtakes him.

\--

When he enters the room, Kuroo sees Moriyama Akane, his orientation buddy from the general tour, and she waves him over to join her at the back of the lecture hall. There’s a lot of students here, which is kind of nice, Kuroo thinks. He’s sure he’ll be studying alongside a lot of them. 

After the introduction and general advice on their upcoming years, they mill around and mingle, exchanging details on who’s in what lecture and exchanging phone numbers with each other. When it wraps up he exits with Akane to go the school bookstore, and when they’re all sorted there he walks her to music building for her wind ensemble audition. Kuroo says his goodbyes, knowing he’ll see her at lecture once class starts, and texts Sawamura to let him know he’ll be headed over soon.

But first, the court.

Kuroo doesn’t have any delusions about being able to play professionally, nor does he want to, but he doesn’t want to squander his time in college either, not while he still has the chance to play against opponents of such a high caliber. And of course, playing with teammates he’s only had the pleasure of seeing on tv or across the net up until now. 

Before he gets the chance to enter, Sawamura texts him back.

from the boyfriend: (3:39) _Sounds good!_  
(3:39) _Okay, and don’t take this as me admitting you were right, but_  
(3:40) _In the hallway earlier I uh almost ran over a classmate_  
(3:40) _It was completely unintentional!_

(3:41) **oh my god how are you this clumsy off the court**  
(3:42) **learn to keep your limbs in check you menace**

(3:42) _I wasn’t like waving my arms around or anything!_  
(3:42) _I was just jogging past when he stepped out of a room._

(3:43) **Σ(°ロ°)**  
(3:43) **why were you jogging indoors???**

(3:43) _One of my classmates dropped his schedule and I was trying to go give it back to him._  
(3:44) _It was just a more narrow space than I expected?_  
(3:44) _I guess Karasuno’s halls were a good width for running_

Kuroo laughs at that, the image of Sawamura dashing up and down the hallway for whatever reason – chasing his kouhai, battling the basketball captain, running errands for a teacher – and finally looks up at the sign-up sheet he’s been standing in front of for the last five minutes.

There are already a few people utilizing the court for individual practice, and Kuroo skims over the guys doing sprints to watch the person on the far end of the court practicing serves on a water bottle. The ball slams at hyperspeed into the space right next to the bottle, sending it hurtling away from the resulting shockwave; Kuroo feels the prickle of apprehension on the skin of his forearms, unsure if even he has the steadiness needed to withstand that receive. He’d hate to be on the other end of that demonic serve. There’s something about it that itches at Kuroo’s memory.

But the server scowls, and jogs off to recollect his ball and fix his set-up, clearly determined to achieve both accuracy and speed. Kuroo returns his eyes to the sign-up sheet, adding his name to the already half-full list. Sawamura’s name is a few entries up, and Kuroo snaps a picture of it, sending it off with the comment

(3:47) **this guy sounds like a dreamboat**

before he remembers that he’s not really supposed to be flirting like this anymore. Goddammit. Doesn’t help his case any that Sawamura’s still listed as “the boyfriend” in his phone. Idiot. He stops in place next to the women’s volleyball sign-ups as he fiddles with his phone, waiting to see what kind of response he gets back before he tries to divert the conversation.

(3:48) _A leaky raft, maybe._  
(3:48) (￣ω￣;)ゞ  
(3:48) _Haha I like the mouth on this one_

Kuroo tamps down his immediate instinct to say something about Sawamura’s mouth and picks up on a less inappropriate out instead.

(3:49) **i thought you’d be more of a ヘ or ロ person actually**

(3:49) _Well, you know it’s good to show a range of emotions!_  
(3:50) _I can’t respond with disapproval to EVERYTHING you do._  
(3:50) _I can be supportive on occasion!_  
(3:50) _Cats will do what they want regardless_

(3:51) **aw you’re very supportive always, sawamura**  
(3:51) **no worries on that front**  
(3:51) **i feel extremely reinforced**  
(3:52) **bolstered**  
(3:52) **buttressed**

(3:52) _Thank you. To both you and your stellar vocabulary._  
(3:53) (o˘ω˘o)  
(3:53) _You know what, never mind, it’s starting to look kind of weird?_

(3:53) **yeah maybe it’s time to stop**  
(3:53) **(=ΦㅅΦ=)**

When Kuroo finally puts his phone down so he can leave, he notices the server from earlier looking in his direction, eyes narrowed and mouth set in an almost calculating expression. But it fades just as quickly back to a neutral, vaguely friendly look before he spins on his heel and returns to practicing his serves. Kuroo shrugs it off, figuring the guy thinks he’s a weirdo for laughing alone in the corner of the gym for a few minutes and then just leaving, but it isn’t until he’s well on his way to Sawamura’s dorm that he realizes why that player looked familiar.

Kuroo has seen a few videos of him playing in the Miyagi qualifiers before, demon serve and everything. And, most recently, waving Sawamura off with Iwaizumi back at the Kaimei entrance exams. Looks like Kuroo’s just had his first encounter with the infamous Oikawa Tooru. He’ll have to try and make a better impression next time they meet.

\--

Sawamura has managed to sort out his cable situation by the time Kuroo arrives back at his room. The unpacking endeavor looks mostly complete, just a small box or two left to deal with for each of them. There are even decorations on the wall already: a vintage Godzilla movie poster hanging over Iwaizumi’s bed and a wall calendar situated between both of their desks, which are pushed against the window wall. Taped a few feet above Sawamura’s pillow is a photograph of Karasuno at the Spring High awards ceremony, all of them beaming and moist-eyed. Sawamura is in the middle with Sugawara and Azumane, holding up the cup.

“Ah, there it is,” Kuroo sighs. “The one that got away.” He points to the trophy.

“You weren’t meant to be,” Sawamura says as he finishes shooting off a text to Suga. “But don’t worry. There’ll be other championships.”

They share a look, one of both quiet excitement and a nervousness that neither of them has felt since they were fresh out of middle school. This is a new stage, with new players. But it doesn’t matter how unfamiliar all the component parts are. Volleyball is still volleyball; they know that much.

“Ready for more flying falls?”

“Don’t get too excited – you’ll be diving right alongside me.” Sawamura leans down to pick up a thesaurus that he slots into place on his desk shelf before turning to straddle the back of his chair and face Kuroo. “So what’d you want to talk about? And don’t tell me it’s nothing; you spent the first ten minutes here picking lint off Iwaizumi’s comforter, and I’m sure he’ll appreciate it but if that’s not a nervous tic then your interests are weirder than I thought.”

Kuroo, seated at the foot of Sawamura’s bed, cracks all the knuckles in his left hand as he tries to decide if he can stall any longer. “Okay, I might have had an ulterior motive. That sounds bad. Um.” He cracks the knuckles in his right hand this time. “There’s something important I wanted to apologize to you about.”

He should just come out and say it already, no use in prolonging the dread any further, but he feels like he needs to wait for Sawamura’s assent first.

Confusion flashes across the other boy’s face, but it vanishes with a soft “ah.” Sawamura regards Kuroo calmly for a moment before his expression softens into amusement. “Are you breaking up with me, Kuroo? Already?” he asks, and Kuroo feels the surface under him give way to gravity as if he’s stumbling in a dream, jolted back to the dark of reality. A cold frisson of shock knifes up through his spine. This is not how this conversation was projected to go.

“What do mean ‘already’?” he squeaks out, clenching his fingers into Sawamura’s bedding. He needs desperately to regroup, to remember why he came here today but he’s not certain that he’s not the one out of the loop now.

“Well,” and Sawamura shrugs, as if that's any kind of answer. “I thought we'd last a month, at least. I was _hoping_ we would last that long. Not that we can't stay friends! Tons of people remain friends with their exes. It's just kind of embarrassing, y’know? My first relationship, over after two weeks.” He laughs a bit, and puts the rest of his pencils and erasers in his desk drawer.

Is he being sincere? Shit, Kuroo doesn’t even _know_ anymore, and that’s the dangerous part. It’s just like Kenma and the others were saying. This might not be a game to Sawamura.

But he doesn’t sound particularly _sad_ about it and...and this could be an out. Kuroo isn’t going to take it, because he’s been dishonest enough for the lifetime of this friendship, and Sawamura deserves the whole, incriminating truth, but. He wants to know where this thread leads. Just long enough to see what’s at the other end, then he’ll come clean. Just until then.

So Kuroo chooses his words carefully. “Would you be...upset? If we were hypothetically going to break up?”

Sawamura shrugs gently before reaching down and casting the now empty cardboard box aside. “A little disappointed, I suppose. Even if you were just a practice boyfriend-”

Kuroo snaps to attention. “Excuse me, _practice boyfriend?!_ ”

“I mean,” and Sawamura ducks his head briefly before looking straight back at Kuroo with those clear eyes. “It's not like we were ever that serious, right?”

“I’m not sure where you got that impression from.”

“Kuroo, you set me up on a pity date with yourself. Because you couldn’t find anyone else.”

“That’s not what this was about,” Kuroo claims, waving a hand in the air impatiently as he stands. He’s still off-balance, and he hates not being on stable ground during a verbal exchange.

“Wasn't it?” Sawamura lays his forearms across the top of the chair and rests his chin there. His voice is matter-of-fact as he continues, “It's okay, I understand. You’re not the only one who thinks I’m doomed; I hear it from Suga all the time. I'm too oblivious, I'm too focused on volleyball and my responsibilities, I have no tact when it comes to romance – I think he's terrified I'm going to die alone. Which isn't fair; it's not like he or Asahi have dated much either.” 

“I'm sure you won't die alone,” is all Kuroo manages to deny out of all of Suga’s complaints, and Sawamura smiles ruefully. 

“What, you're going to keep me company that long? Come on, Kuroo, you’re a good guy, but you’re not _that_ good. It’s nice of you to give me a chance, but I don’t need you to take it that far. I wasn’t expecting this relationship to last much longer than our first semester here anyway.”

Oh, ouch. That stings a bit, even though it really shouldn’t. Are they that theoretically incompatible? Kuroo only wants to know out of pure curiosity, no other reason.

No, wait. He recognizes this tactic. Sawamura is _provoking_ him. This crafty motherfucker is turning the tables back on Kuroo, but to what end? What is _happening_ right now?

Get the conversation back on track. Figure out what the other person thinks the situation is before showing your hand. And then clear everything up, obviously, but that can’t happen until Kuroo works out what the fuck Sawamura is doing.

“It’s starting to seem like you never took my confession seriously,” Kuroo says, crossing his arms, because some part of him still believes it to be true. Even now, he isn’t completely convinced that they weren’t on the same wavelength outside Hinata’s house that day.

“I take you as seriously as you want to be taken,” Sawamura laughs, deftly dodging the matter like he does, but that in itself is admission enough. “And we both know what that’s worth.”

True. 

They stare at each other for a stretch of time, brown eyes to hazel ones, the only sound in the room the regular ticking of Iwaizumi’s alarm clock, each trying to read the other without looking away. Kuroo breaks first.

He's being baited. He’s being _played_ , is what’s happening, but of course none of his friends would understand. No one understands. No one else _gets_ Sawamura quite the same way Kuroo does, he realizes in this moment. Possibly not even his team, or Suga or Azumane, because no one else pushes Sawamura like this, as a friend and a rival, over both stupid shit and the things most important to each of them. And because they understand each other, Kuroo knows that whatever Sawamura’s hiding goes beyond their dumb provocation battle. He’s not the only one here who needs to explain himself.

He rakes his hair up before sitting down on Iwaizumi’s chair, hands braced on his knees. He feels like he shouldn't be standing for whatever happens next. “Alright. I didn't come here to dump you, no matter what you think.” Only somewhat a lie. Sawamura clearly isn't buying it either.

“Oh? You led with some pretty damning words. Hey,” and he sounds as kind as always, but there’s that catlike smile again, the one that haunts Kuroo’s best memories of him, “it’s okay, Tetsurou. Really. If you don’t want to play house with me, I’m sure I can find someone else. We’re in college now, after all. It’s like you said; maybe I need to reinvent myself first.”

“No,” Kuroo says without thinking it through, and then presses forward to explain himself when Sawamura raises his eyebrows. “What I mean is, you shouldn’t change who you are just to get a date. I’d be a shitty friend if I let you do that.”

Sawamura’s smile eases into something more sincere. “Thanks, but you don’t have to take so much responsibility for me.”

“Just because I don’t have to doesn’t mean I don’t want to. So level with me, Sawamura. What’s this really about? I can’t figure out whether you’re trying to get rid of me, or goad me into staying, and I can’t figure out _why_ , either way. If _you_ want to break up with _me_ , you can just come out and say it.” 

Eyes widening, Sawamura shakes his head. “No, it’s- it’s not that. I just...don’t know if it’s fair to get you caught up in my bullshit. I wanted to give you an out.” He takes a second to gather his thoughts, before biting his lip and turning his chair around so he can fold up his legs on the seat and face Kuroo. “Look, I’m not exactly lonely or anything. But Suga worries, and if going through the motions with someone who meets his expectations will get him off my back, then I’ll do it. Besides, I guess it’ll help me prepare for the real thing, whenever the hell that comes along.”

Kuroo squints at him, finally piecing together Sawamura’s motives here. It’s nothing he’d ever expected when they started their whole battle. It’s much, much more ruthlessly pragmatic, and Kuroo kind of loves it.

“You weren’t kidding about the practice boyfriend thing, were you?” he asks, a hint of incredulous admiration slipping into his tone. “You accepted my confession because you needed to put on a good show for your best friend. You were _using_ me!”

“It sounds really unscrupulous when you say it like that,” Sawamura protests. No denial, Kuroo notes. “That’s not the only reason. I do actually really enjoy your company. And I thought it would be good to get some experience with someone I might actually- somebody I consider a good friend.”

“You also accepted because you didn’t think I was serious about my feelings for you.” Kuroo slouches back in his chair, hands crossed on his lap as he watches for Sawamura’s reaction. “At least, I hope. Anything else would make you pretty fucking cold-blooded.” Which is hypocritical coming from the guy throwing out false declarations of love at people.

“Of course. Kuroo, ethics of what I was doing aside, we both know you don’t actually want me,” Sawamura counters. His mouth twists into a crooked smile, his eyes creasing in tired amusement. “Which is why I’m letting you go now. It’d be a waste of your time to go along with it.”

He says it with enough finality that Kuroo almost agrees right away. Because this is it: the perfect chance to air it all out, to admit he was wrong and tell Sawamura he’ll support him and his dumb fake boyfriend plan. Sawamura has all but admitted he knew Kuroo never intended to truly date him from the start. Kuroo can help him find some random dude to go out with for a few months until Suga’s satisfied that Sawamura isn’t a complete dunce at romance and they’ll break up or whatever or maybe they’ll actually fall in love and it’ll be great, a happy ending all wrapped up neat with a bow that they can tell their future grandchildren about. Kuroo will take full credit for hooking them up. Meanwhile, he and Sawamura can go back to the simpler times of being regular, normal friends. 

So he should come clean now. Like he intended.

But there’s a measure of uncertainty Kuroo can read in Sawamura’s eyes, that gives him pause. Sawamura is leaving the decision up to Kuroo, which means he isn’t completely convinced they should break up. Is it because he’d prefer after all to stick with Kuroo for his little ploy, but he’s too considerate to say so?

Is it something else?

“What if I don’t want to?” Kuroo finds himself asking with a kind of automaticity that scares him. He shouldn’t even be entertaining this idea, but his mouth is moving before he can stop it. “What if I want to keep dating you, pretend or not?”

“Why?” Sawamura asks, mystified. “You don’t want to get dragged into this nonsense.”

“Who says?” he replies, leaning forward on his elbows. The more he talks, the more he becomes invested in this new venture. Because it has none of the pitfalls of their last game: this one’s cooperative, and this time around, he knows no one involved is getting hurt. With a grin, he adds, “In fact, it seems like I might be your best option across the board.”

If Sawamura is surprised that Kuroo’s pushing this, he hides it well, taking Kuroo’s bait with a dry “And why is that?”

Kuroo holds up a finger. “One, Suga already knows me. And must approve of me, to some extent, if he hasn’t already tried to have me assassinated in the last month. That’s your biggest hurdle out of the way.”

“Okay, fair point. He does like you, for some reason,” Sawamura jokes.

“We’ve talked about this, Daichi. Charming, remember?” Kuroo points at himself with both thumbs. “Which brings me to point two. I’d be a fucking exemplary boyfriend. If you’re gonna do this, you might as well do it with someone who’s going to treat you right.” 

“You _are_ pretty thoughtful,” Sawamura concedes. “I could do a lot worse. And point three?”

“Point three.” Kuroo stops for a second to laugh under his breath before looking up to meet Sawamura’s eyes. “Point three’s the clincher. You know what you’re getting into with me. This is a no strings attached situation. You want out? We break it off. You already know how I feel about you-”

“I don’t, actually-”

Kuroo winks. “-but you don’t have to worry about things getting complicated between us. It’s not like we’ll actually fall in love, right?”

“Right,” Sawamura says with a wry twist to his mouth. “Okay, let’s say I decide to keep you after all. What do you get out of this?”

“Honestly? I kinda just think it might be fun,” Kuroo says with a shrug. “And I’d like the opportunity to prove myself better than you at something, since you keep thwarting me at every turn.”

“Better than- are you _competing_ with me?” Sawamura asks. He narrows his eyes. 

“Yes, in the art of boyfriending.”

“Boyfri- okay, first of all, that’s not even a word-”

“Don’t get caught up in the semantics, Sawamura.”

“Second, relationships aren’t volleyball, Kuroo-”

“Of course they aren’t, but the metaphor carries pretty well: you keep doing nice things for each other until one person drops the ball-”

“And more importantly, what gave you the idea that you could ever beat me?” Sawamura stalks over and leans down so they’re at eye level. “Champion, remember?” he says, echoing Kuroo with a smirk. “I don’t know if you can handle me.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” Kuroo crows. The game is back on. “You’re suddenly Mr. Smooth, are you? What happened to the hapless bachelor Suga was dithering over?”

“He’s out the door. You’re here to help with that. Anyway, my pride is at stake now, for one. I don’t play to lose.”

“And yet, it seems to happen a lot anyway, doesn’t it? You know, I’d forgotten how good defeat looks on you. I’m excited to see it again.” Kuroo mimes the motion of a flying fall with his hand.

“Fuck you too, Kuroo,” Sawamura says with a sharp grin and Kuroo laughs again.

“Only after the fifth date, babe.”

Sawamura snorts, and backs away. “You wish. Alright, then. You can keep the job. Um, unless something comes up for either of us. Obviously, you can break things off too if you want, no pressure.”

“That seems fair. And we’ll be open about our boundaries and what makes us uncomfortable, if anything.”

“Of course.”

“Shake on it?”

Kuroo stands and shakes Sawamura’s hand briefly, with a normal amount of force for once, before tugging him gently forward and cupping his hand around Sawamura’s cheek when he makes no moves to pull away. Attempt #1: showing interest in your SO’s everyday life. “So how has your day been, sweetheart?”

This gets him a laugh. “You were there for most of it, so you tell me.”

“It was...informative,” Kuroo decides, and Sawamura shrugs his agreement. “Do you feel romanced?”

Sawamura thinks about it for a second. “I feel that you need to moisturize your hands a little more.”

“Yeah, you know how it goes with calluses.”

Sawamura smiles at him, reaching up with his own hand to trace the rough patch of Kuroo’s palm with his thumb, before making a weird face and letting out a small sigh.

“This plan is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve done some questionable stuff,” he murmurs, and Kuroo frowns before moving his hand away from Sawamura’s cheek to place it firmly on his shoulder.

“Don’t talk about my boyfriend that way.” When Sawamura just rolls his eyes, Kuroo tells him, “And yeah, it’s probably gonna be a disaster and your friends will see through us after a month, but hey, we can have some fun, right? I’ll show you a good time, and you’ll remember what it’s supposed to be like when the right one comes along. Trust me.”

“I do. I’ll try to have fun.”

Sawamura’s phone chimes on his desk, startling them away from each other; it’s a message from Iwaizumi saying that they’re headed back to the dorm now. Kuroo takes it as his signal to take his leave for the day.

“I better take off so you two roomies can bond. See you after class tomorrow?” he asks, and it’s like they’re somewhere between their old and new normal. He still needs a little time to adjust, even if not much has actually changed.

But Sawamura just nods, and helps him into his coat. They make plans to eat together for lunch and then Kuroo’s at the door, saying goodbye.

Before he can leave, Sawamura springs a question on him. “Wait, I was just wondering. If you really didn’t come here to dump me, what did you want to talk about?” he asks, and Kuroo pauses in the doorway.

“I was going to apologize for messing around with you back in Miyagi, for possibly toying with your emotions, but it seems like I wasn’t the only one.” It feels like a weight has been lifted from his stomach after he admits it, the guilt no longer digging into his abdomen like hooks.

“Seems that way,” Sawamura says and he flashes a small smile before patting Kuroo on the back and waving him off until he reaches the elevator.

  


Outside, sunset is folding daylight into evening, and the chill of the spring night pokes at Kuroo through his coat as he begins his journey home. It isn’t a very long walk, but he puts his hands in his pockets to protect them from the cold, regretting the fact that he left his orange gloves on his bed, which is when he feels the brush of paper against his skin.

He pulls out a small brown paper packet, held shut with a piece of tape. Sawamura must have slipped it into his pocket earlier while he was helping him unpack. He opens the little paper bag. Inside are cat-shaped sticky tabs, cute and cartoony and the ideal size to plaster in his notebooks. It’s a sweet gesture, and Kuroo feels an ember of warmth settle in him as he powerwalks through the wind back to his apartment. They hadn’t even really begun this whole new competition when Sawamura got them for him.

Looks like it’s Sawamura: 1, Kuroo: 0. This is going to be a long match.

Akaashi’s words return to him then: _people aren’t games_. And he’s absolutely correct. But Kuroo keeps playing anyway, in hopes that he’ll win...whatever it is he’s after. Whatever the grand prize of a real friendship is supposed to be, as little sense as that makes. Maybe someday he’ll actually figure out what it is.

Kuroo sighs. The intervention was right: he's a dumbass. Swiftly, hurriedly, he walks on home, trying to figure out how to spin this story for his waiting friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you: hey uh what the fuck are they doing  
> me: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
